TURBULENCE
by jaybirdtheprinceoffandom
Summary: Turbulence follows in the wake of Serenity. A realistic look at the ramifications of The Miranda Party and what Mal would do if he could do anything. Only for those who like a little sour in their sweet. Rated M for violence, drugs, nudity, etc.
1. EP 1

Captain Reynolds sat at the co-pilots console. River was an even better pilot than her predecessor and her mental state had improved drastically during the crew's stay on Miranda.

"Where to Captain?" River asked, for all the world sounding like the normal teenage girl she appeared to be.

"Inara has a notion we should pay the Heart of Gold a visit. Since we took care of their little problem before, Miss Petaline's running the whole town. She even changed the name of it to Gold City," Mal said.

"That's not the only reason," River said, giving Mal a knowing look. "You've got a plan."

Mal was struck by the inconvenience of trying to keep a secret near a psychic. "If it were a _plan_, I'd tell everybody so they could tell me why I shouldn't do it. This is still just an _idea_." He brought up the coordinates to Gold City. "I'd appreciate it if you keep it to yourself until we know what the Alliance plans to do about our little... Miranda party."

"Trouble," River muttered.

"Yeah, some of that'll be coming our way if the Alliance finds us, which is why I'm trying to find out what _they_ plan before-"

The console began displaying a distress beacon. Mal looked at River like it was her fault.

"There's a distress beacon, Captain," River said blankly.

Mal stared back. He couldn't decide if River was messing with him. After a moment he decided it didn't matter. "Thank you Pilot," he said, trying to mimic her blank stare. He turned back to his copilot console and frowned. "We're two days out of Reaver space. Who would be out here to send a distress beacon?"

"Do you think it's a trap?"

"Wouldn't surprise me..." Mal began, "but there's one way to find out."

Serenity moved in closer to the location of the distress beacon as the rest of the crew joined Mal and River at the helm.

"It's still faint," River said. "The beacon should be stronger given how close we are. They may be out of power as they appear to be drifting to the nearest star." On Mal's console, a navigation chart popped up. A small circle appeared, denoting the general area where the distress beacon came from. Then, a small arrow popped out of the side with numbers estimating the distance and speed of both ships as well as estimated times of contact based on current speed of both vehicles. River even included a calculation of when the ship would get pulled directly into the nearest gravity well (3 weeks, 4 days, 9 hours, 22 minutes, and 17 seconds) just because she could. Finally, chinese characters popped up below the diagram.

All of this River accomplished in the same amount of time it took the computer to transmit from one console to the next.

"Cute," Mal said, reading the chinese text. It read "Awesome Smart River is Both Awesome and Smart".

"What are we going to do?" Inara, the Companion, asked.

Mal considered for a second. Before Miranda, he would have loved nothing more than to close in and get a first hand look. If the distress beacon seemed legitimate, he could help or call for help. If everyone was dead, he could strip the ship of all valuables and supplies and be on his merry way. Now, however, the Alliance probably wanted the heads of his entire crew, including Inara, who was a rich and well respected member of society. If he tried to help or call for help, he could be sentencing everyone on board to execution or an indefinite prison stay.

On the other hand, Serenity was way out on the edge of known space. The only ships that traveled these lanes were Reavers, pirates, smugglers, and the odd Alliance cruiser with an overly ambitious Commander General. Even if they did find someone needing a ride or medical attention, the chances of their location getting back to the Alliance were slim.

"Alright," Mal said finally. "Let's take a look."

Two hours later, Serenity had closed in on the ships. There were actually two of them. One was a boxy, large number. It was very obviously a cargo ship. The second, smaller one was attached to the bottom of the cargo ship.

"What is that?" Jayne asked. Jayne was Serenity's Public Relations and Security Officer. His skills included fighting, drinking, general thuggery, and being tough enough to do all those things without getting himself killed.

"It's a pirate ship," Zoe answered. Zoe was the widow of Serenity's former pilot as well as a longtime friend of the Captain.

"How can you tell?" Jayne asked, squinting out the view port.

"That weird smudge on the top is supposed to be a Jolly Roger," Zoe said

"Jolly Who?" Jayne asked.

"Skull and Crossbones," Mal interrupted. He didn't have time for the inevitable breakdown in conversation that resulted from his Public Relations Officer's limited ability to remember things not related to his job. "Any guess as to why a pirate ship would be broadcasting a distress beacon?"

"It's an ambush," Jayne said. His philosophy was "If it can kill you, it'll probably try."

"If it was an ambush, would they have wanted it to be so obvious?" Kaylee asked. Kaylee was Serenity's mechanic and girlfriend to the ship's Chief Medical Officer.

"Maybe they're lootin' the place right now and just couldn't figure out how to turn it off yet?" Jayne guessed.

"Unlikely," River chimed in. "We've been running a hailing frequency for three hours. They'd be done and gone by now."

"I think something went wrong," Mal said. "I think the pirates boarded and bit off more than they could chew, but now the ships are damaged and can't fly out."

"So someone probably needs our help then?" Inara asked. Simon, the ships doctor and brother to River Tam, looked to Mal. That would mean work for him.

"Yeah, but who? The crew or the pirates?" Mal replied.

The Cargo Hauler

Zoe, Jayne, and Mal went aboard first, in case whoever was sending the distress call was less than friendly. "Less than friendly in this case" meant "was going to kill the would be rescuers and steal their functioning ship to escape". Docking Serenity wasn't an option until the ships were separated, which left Mal, Zoe, and Jayne in the process of blowing open the maintenance air lock to the cargo hauler.

"Explosives set," Jayne said. The three of them were currently tethered to the outside of the cargo ship. Mal and Zoe had short leashed themselves outside of the blast radius and began pulling Jayne back to safety using his safety tether.

The explosives were C-4, egg timers, and metal caps drilled to the side of the ship to focus the blast. As soon as Jayne made it to Zoe and Mal, the explosives blew, releasing all the air from the air lock behind it. There was no sound, but Mal could feel the concussion of the blast in the bottom of magnet boots currently holding him to the side of the ship.

"Alright," Mal said as the three began marching across the metal hull. "We'll be at a slight disadvantage when we're pulling ourselves in. Jayne, you open the door and as quick as you can, we all pile in. Zoe you go last and close the air lock before we get sucked back out or use up all the atmo." Once they were standing in the air lock at the far door, Mal turned to face them. "If anyone so much as sticks their tongue out at you, shoot to kill, got it?"

"Roger," Zoe said. Jayne nodded.

Entry went off without a hitch, exactly as Mal had described. Jayne hit the switch and the three fought their way through the gale of escaping air. The service lock opened into a hallway which was mercifully empty.

After the door closed, the wind stopped. Mal checked the read out on the wrist of his EV suit. "Air's clean." He took off his helmet and deliberately took a deep breath to make sure the machine hadn't missed anything. Jayne and Zoe knew to wait for his nod to do the same.

"Let's start looking. Everyone stays together until we know what the situation is," Mal said. "We'll start with the main cargo bay." They began walking, weapons out. Zoe had her favorite mare's leg style rifle and Jayne had Viera, the most customized shotgun-type-thing Mal had ever seen. Mal just had his favorite pistol. He called it the Dragon on account of its firing mechanism being completely plasma based instead of using gunpowder to launch a plasma or lead projectile.

"You checking for loot before survivors?" Jayne asked. He smiled. "Glad you're finally coming around."

"If the pirates sent the distress call, there will be someone watching their goods. Checking the bay first will tell us who we're dealing with." Mal said evenly.

The three made their way to the bay but didn't see anyone. It was easy enough to find, but no one was prepared for what they saw.

Half of the bay had cargo boxes stacked neatly with signs made out of printer paper. The signs were in English and read things like "clothes", "food", "jewelry", "electronics", etc. The other half of the bay had bodies.

Dozens of dead bodies lay in a neat row against the far wall.

The first half of the line were bodies wrapped neatly in bedding and tarps. They seemed almost orderly. The second half of the line was gruesome. Fourteen men, mostly white or asian, lay in comical positions. Some were sitting up. Some had been lain in odd positions. Two of them were spooning. One, who's eye was freshly missing was stuck trying to pick his nose. The only uniform thing about them was that all of their chests were bare. Each one had his sins carved into their chests with words like RAPIST, MURDERER, TRAITOR, and ENABLER carved in straight, neat lines to advertise what their killer had thought of them.

"Reavers?" Jayne asked. He sounded afraid.

"No," Mal said. His time in the war had shown him things like this before. "Look closer." All three of them stepped up to the gory corpses to check for clues.

"Reavers don't have a sense of humor," Zoe said. Looking at the chest carvings she added. "Or murderous, self-righteous indignation."

"You think it was an operative?" Jayne asked. He couldn't take his eyes off. He wasn't particularly disturbed. People killed and got killed all the time. They why and the how of _this_ was a real a brain buster, though.

"Possible," Mal said, he holstered the Dragon and squatted down for a closer look at one of the corpses. "These wounds all look like they were made by one of those swords the last one we met carried."

"There's no blood on the floor," Jayne said, scratching his head. "What kind of crazy person cleans up after doing...that?"

"Well, whoever it was their really good. Maybe even better than our operative friend," Mal lifted the arm of a dead boy of about sixteen dressed in motorcycle style leather. It ended in a stump below the elbow. "This guy's missing a hand. The only other wound on his body is the tiny hole in his heart here." Mal pointed it out. The entry hole was easy to miss over the word MURDERER. "This boy tried to shoot back, lost his hand for his trouble, and then died from the tiny stab to the heart."

"It had to be an operative," Jayne said, breathing a sigh of relief there were no Reavers. "No one else would carry a sword who could do _this_." He waved at the row of bodies. "What's the point of practicing with a sword if a bullet kills someone just as dead?"

"Nope," a new voice said.

Mal, Zoe, and Jayne spun and pointed their weapons before any of them had even processed what they were hearing. Mal got his pistol on point before the other two, despite the need to stand and draw while spinning.

"So wassuh doin'?" the drunken voice slurred. Upon seeing the gun barrels pointed at him he followed up with "No need for 'at. I'm a share!"

Mal and his crew were staring down a man, probably Inara's age who stood answering their weapons with a liquor bottle. One could say he was waving it, but he seemed to be swaying it. In fact, his whole body was swaying.

The man was a shade taller than Jayne and wider in the shoulders. His arms were bare and thick, giving the impression that he'd been a weight lifter but fallen out of the habit for a while. His hair and patchy beard stubble were blond. His hair hung almost to his shoulders, or would have, were it not standing in weird directions and places from the blood in it. At first Mal thought the man had hit his head, but he slowly realized the man had run bloody hands through his hair repeatedly. Judging from the uneven stubble, Mal assumed he'd been doing it for days. The man was dressed in all black: sleeveless shirt, jeans, and combat boots. The dark color didn't quite hide the sheer volume of blood soaked in though. The only thing clean on him was his nylon belt and the accompanying weapons. On his right, a comically large double barreled coach gun which had been sawn down but still took up the better part of his thigh. On his left was a short, straight sword with a thin, sharp blade.

The worst part was his eyes. They were bright, emerald green. Looking into them made Mal think of his childhood on his mom's ranch. Specifically, he remembered the look the biggest, toughest of the ranches dogs got when they brought back a dead animal. _Look, I brought you a present_, those eyes seemed to say.

"Issa good ssstuff," the man slurred, shaking the bottle in what an inebriated person might consider enticing.

"Who the hell are you?" Mal demanded.

The young man made a show of looking himself up and down. It would have seen smart assed had he not almost fallen down. "I'm a pirate," he declared as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He waited, but seeing no look of comprehension on his listeners faces decided to help them out. He placed a hand over an eye. "Aargh," he stated. When that didn't work, he consoled himself with another sip of liquor.

"Did you have something to do with this?" Mal asked, leaning his head towards the bodies without taking his eyes or gun barrel off the man. He heard Jayne snort beside him. It seemed pretty obvious.

The man squinted at the bodies as if he'd never seen them before. "Naw..I just killed 'em and lined 'em up funny. The ones who was helping them escaped in a drop shuttle." He took another sip from his bottle.

"Others?" Zoe asked, pointing her barrel at the door. It was the only interior point of entry.

"Yeah, there was a more of us," the "pirate" said, "but the rest of 'em piled into a scape pod. I think I scared 'em." He held his hands up and opened his eyes wide in an attempt to be scary that wouldn't have frightened a baby. "Oogie boogie, mother fucker," he said flatly. It would have been a little funny but for the blood. Given the circumstances, it made him seem like a mad man.

"Is there any one else on board?" Mal asked.

The pirate shook his head. "Nope." The motion almost made him fall over again. He caught himself and stood up straight. He began pointing. "They killed them and then _I_ killed them." His hand was pointing no where near what he was talking about, but Mal caught the general idea.

"So anyways.."the pirate said. "How about if you keep all the cargoes in the exchange for a ride back to civilization? The stuff with the red X on 'em is mine but if your gonna' steal it I'm in no possession to stop you." He took another sip. Looking pointedly at the guns pointed at him he added, "You seem like decent enough people, though."

"What do you want to do sir?" Zoe asked.

"Jayne, disarm him. When he sobers up we can finish this conversation."

Jayne slung Viera onto his back and stepped forward. The pirate held both of his hands in the air, still clutching the liquor bottle. "I gossa pocket knife, too." He slurred. When Jayne took off the man's belt he almost fell over again.

"Take his booze!" Mal snapped.

"Yes, sir!" Jayne said, grinning. When Mal had a good idea, he had a good idea. Jayne snatched the bottle away from the stranger and took a deep swig, to which the original owner protested with a feeble "Hey..."

"Is there anything worth taking on the other ship?" Mal asked.

"No, I moved it all in here," the man with his hands still in the air said.

"Okay," Mal said, typing instructions for Serenity into his wrist com. "Why didn't you just eject the pirate ship and fly off?"

"I don't know how to fly a large ship like these," the pirate said. Zoe finally stepped up and pulled his arms down for him. "Now that I think about it, that's prollabee a big failing for a handsome and dashing pirate like myself."

"What's your name?" Mal asked.

"Victor Prince. The ladies call me Prince Charming." He turned to Zoe and his face had a spasm. A generous person may have called it a wink. A normal person's first thought would be that the crazy drunk man just had a stroke. "My viscous attack dog is Maestro Fuzzy Von Facebiter."

"Attack dog?" Mal asked, looking around. He, Jayne, and Zoe had their weapons up again and searching.

As if on cue, a small, white, furry creature plodded his way out from behind a crate, greeted by three gun barrels. The puppy's tongue lolled out happily and his tail wagged furiously. It walked over to Jayne and began licking at his boot.

"You are right to be afraid," Victor droned in a deep, scary voice. "Beware the cruel, the destructive, the mighty... Snowball!" _Pause for dramatic effect_. "I just call him Snow 'cause I'm lazy, yet efficient." He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it and almost fell over again. "So, Captain Reynolds, do I have permission to come aboard?"

Mal regarded his new passenger with a cold stare. "Sure. Later, you're going to tell me how you came to know that name."

The rest of the job was simple enough. Mal instructed Kaylee to go EV and manually detach the pirate ship. Then, it was a matter of docking Serenity and moving the cargo a few feet. Victor Prince was of no help whatsoever, as Jayne had left his liquor bottle unattended for a moment. When Jayne returned for another drink, he found Victor, lying unconscious by the now empty bottle. Unconcerned, Jayne left him there and went back to finish loading the last crates.

Simon and Kaylee came aboard the cargo hauler last and were more disturbed by what they found than the others had been.

"What happened?" Kaylee asked, eyes wide.

"He happened," Mal said pointing to Victor Victor was unresponsive and in the process of being nipped to death by Snowball. Snowball, the cruel fiend that he was, took the slow and painful route by starting with Victor's fingertips. The pirate was truly lucky he was not awake for it.

"Don't be silly, Captain," Kaylee said walking over to Snowball. She picked him up and turned to face Simon and Mal. "There's no way this little guy could do all that, could you?" She made kissy faces at the puppy and it began licking her. The licking was most likely to establish if she tasted good enough to be his next meal.

Mal smiled. "The dead body behind you is actually Simon's new patient."

Kaylee jumped away from Victor like a small child from a bug, clutching Snowball tight to her chest.

"Patient?" Simon asked, stepping closer.

"Yup," Mal said, kicking Victor to see if he woke up. "You and Kaylee drag his drunk ass into the infirmary. Fix him up as best you can, Doc. It does us no good to rescue him just to watch him die from alcohol poisoning." Mal grabbed Simon's arm to make sure he was paying attention. "When he starts coming around, make sure me, Zoe, or Jayne is around. He's dangerous."

"How dangerous?" Simon asked.

Mal pointed at the dead bodies. "That dangerous."

Serenity's Infirmary

Simon had Kaylee and River playing nurse while Mal, Zoe, and Jayne took one last look around the cargo hauler. The ordinarily empty bay now felt more cramped than Simon felt comfortable with.

Simon began the process of undressing his patient. On Osiris, he'd have just cut his patient's clothes off to avoid moving him and risking further injury. Also on Osiris, his "nurses" wouldn't have been giggling and having so much fun helping him.

Now came the fun part. Simon had to insert a urethral catheter.

"Do you have to do that?" Kaylee asked, staring way too intently. Simon normally found her openness and lack of guile endearing. Performing a procedure involving another man's genitalia was not one of those times

"I don't want him urinating all over the med bay," Simon said, finishing what he was doing. Finally unable to stand all the gawking he said, "River hand me a trauma blanket."

"Do I have to?" River asked, also staring at the naked man on the table.

Simon felt the slight urge to vomit at the sight of his baby sister openly staring at a naked, bloody man with such interest. "Okay, both of you: out!" he snapped. He realized that on Osiris, he'd never had to chase his nurses, giggling, from the room, either.

Simon slapped a vital sign monitor to his patient's chest, covered him with a blanket and started a saline IV. After that, he took a seat. As a doctor, it bothered him that he didn't feel guilty about double checking the small pistol in his vest pocket.

Serenity's Cockpit

Mal, Zoe, and Jayne were in the cockpit. Mal was trying to effectively pilot, but Jayne refused to stop talking. As usual, if something didn't involve money or violence, Jayne needed it explained to death.

"- I mean, if he's so dangerous, why are we bringing him with us?" Jayne was asking. "We already got _one_ crazy killer on board. Why do you want two?"

"Two is better than one," Mal said. "Besides, _you're _dangerous, and I _pay_ you for it."

Jayne paused. "So... you want him on the crew?" he asked. "Why? We're finally well off and you want to give a new guy a cut?"

"He knows who we are. Or didn't you notice?" Zoe asked.

"Hell, a lot of people know who we are now. We did release top secret government information," Jayne replied.

Mal gave a half smile. Sometimes Jayne could put things together. "We did more than that. We made Parliment look like evil psychos. They probably won't take too kindly to that. Besides, that boy's Alliance, or close enough to it. Like you said before, no one this far out in the black wastes time learning to use a sword like that." Mal finally got the autopilot set. "We got no clue what he knows about us or what he intends to do with that knowledge. Until we do, we keep him."

"Besides," Zoe interjected, "he killed a bunch of pirates that were on his own crew. We need to hear what he has to say about that."

Jayne nodded. That made sense. Then he frowned. "Wait... how do you know them pirates was on his side, if he's Alliance?"

"Gorram it, Jayne!" Mal growled. "Go watch him and make sure he don't try to kill someone when he wakes up."

"You saw how drunk he was. He'll be out for a long while yet," Jayne protested.

"Then I guess you'll just have to watch him for a long while yet."


	2. EP 2 Every Joke Is

It was night time on Serenity. Of course, in space "night" meant all the lights were turned down low. River lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her wide, spooky eyes would have given anyone watching her the impression she was in a far off place inside her own head. "Anyone" would have been wrong.

She was watching the dreams in _other_ people's heads.

Zoe was having happy dreams of Wash. In her dreams, they had a baby.

Jayne was dreaming about being in a "nice" lounge. He was surrounded by scantily clad, impossibly beautiful women. They all sat on couches made of money and drank from glasses that were also made of money. Dreams didn't have to make sense. River smiled at the fact that Jayne was still wearing a T-shirt, work pants, and heavy utility belt loaded with weapons, ammo, and a hand grenade.

Mal was dreaming about Miranda. Over and over, he crippled the Operative and played the signal telling the galaxy what their leaders had done. Each time he pushed play, someone he cared about died. First, Sheppard Book. Then, Wash. Next, Zoe. Inara. River. Simon. The faces kept changing, a lot of the people River didn't recognize, but every time he just pushed PLAY.

Simon and Kaylee were asleep in Kaylee's bunk. River could sense what they were doing before they went to bed. She'd asked Simon about it, but Simon found the whole idea of his sister spying on her with his girlfriend disturbing. River wasn't quite sure why, but she never broached the subject again. She had considered asking Kaylee about it, but didn't know if she would be as upset.

Now, Kaylee was dreaming about a giant dinner table. She sat there with the whole crew of Serenity, eating chocolate covered strawberries the size of softballs while every talked and laughed. In her dream, everyone was dressed nice. Also, she was popping the strawberries into her mouth and eating them like normal sized ones. River was a bit confused about the mechanics of it.

Simon was dreaming about being back on his home planet. In his dream, he was accepting a lifetime achievement award for his work as Osiris' best trauma surgeon. Kaylee and River were in attendance. Simon had finally married Kaylee and she was pregnant. River felt a sharp pang of guilt for taking her brother away from that life.

Inara didn't dream. River had asked her about it once, and Inara had said it was because of her Companion training.

"I meditate every day so when I sleep, my mind rests as well as my body," she had said. River wished Inara would teach her that trick so she could keep her mind as calm and focused.

River tried picking up Victor's dreams, but he didn't have any. He was almost comatose. Simon had said only part of that was due to the alcohol. The man had been exhausted to the point of collapsing, even without the drink.

_No, he didn't say that,_ River corrected herself. _He thought it._ River was getting better at differentiating what was happening in people's heads and what was real, but sometimes things just snuck up on her. It was still too easy for her to get the two mixed up.

At least, this time she wasn't mistaking a grenade for a pretty flower that needs the petals plucked off.

Victor was unconscious for the better part of the next day as well. River played nurse to Simon as she did from time to time. She liked helping. Simon never had bad thoughts about her, though his thoughts sometimes reminded her of all she'd cost him. Besides, it felt good to help people instead of killing them.

Simon was worried about Victor and started running electrolytes and vitamins into his IV as well.

"If he keeps up like this he should be fine," Simon said in his professional, "doctor" voice. River liked hearing her brother talk. He got lost in his own thoughts sometimes when he was treating a patient and it was easy to lose track of whether he was speaking or thinking.

"Human beings are resilient," River said, continuing what he'd been going to say.

"That's right," Simon said. "It's hard to kill people unless you do it just right. Then it becomes entirely too easy." This time River lost track of whether Simon was speaking of thinking.

River focused on her brother's mouth and changed the subject. "He's cute." Maybe that would make it easier. Also, she knew from experience that treating patients sometimes caused Simon to start thinking too much about what had been done to his baby sister.

"If you say so," Simon said, smirking. "He's not really my type." Simon turned to River. "You know what he did on the cargo ship?"

"Allegedly," River said, sarcastically. "I'm sure he's really nice once you get to know him."

This time Simon didn't take the bait. "He's dangerous."

"Me too," River said in a small voice. She pulled herself up onto the counter and hugged her knees.

"Yes well," Simon said, uncomfortable. "With you, it's a medical condition. Those can be treated and cured."

"I'm broken," River said in the same tiny voice. "You want your sister back in one piece, but they took her away-"

Simon crossed the room and wrapped his arms around River before she could finish that thought. "Hush now," he said in a soothing voice. "I love you just the way you are. I wouldn't trade you for anything."

River's breath came in ragged gasps as she got herself under control without crying. Having Simon there helped. As much as he missed Osiris, at times like these, all he could think about was his baby sister.

After a moment, River spoke. "He's waking up."

Simon checked his patient. He hadn't moved, but Simon had long learned not to disregard anything River said so directly.

"Mr...um..." Simon realized he never asked for his patient's name. On Osiris, there would have been a chart. "Mr. Pirate?"

"Yargh," Victor mumbled. He tried opening his eyes, but the light immediately tried to gouge them out with a rusty ice pick. It seemed safer to keep them closed.

"Can you speak?" Simon asked in a low, but clear voice.

"Yeah, just stop shouting," Victor whispered feebly.

"River, run fetch the Captain please," Simon said. She did. To his patient, Simon asked "Can you tell me your name?"

"Victor," the man on the table said. He tried opening his eyes. This time they stayed open.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Did you forget?"

"Your very funny," Simon reassured his patient in a mechanical voice. "I'm trying to establish your mental state. Can you tell me where you are?"

"Serenity," the man said. He looked around. "I'm in the infirmary, or else you need a better taste in home decor." Looking down at his blanket he asked "Did you steal my clothes? You're pretty, but I like women-"

"They were cleaned," Simon said, retrieving Victor's clothes from a drawer. He didn't think he like this man and held onto the hope he could be serious for a single second. "The Captain said you knew us?"

Victor sat up suddenly, almost knocking the bundle out of Simon's hands. "My dog? Where is he?"

"He's safe," Simon said, handing Victor his clothes. "My girlfriend's watching him."

"Girlfriend, right," Victor said. He clutched his head as another wave of pain came forth. Probably from sitting up too fast. "Just because I turned you down is no reason to get all defensive."

"The Captain said you know us?" Simon repeated trying to get Victor on track. Being on Serenity had made him thicker skinned than he'd ever been.

"Everyone knows you, you're famous," Victor said, still holding his head.

Simon had Victor lie back down and gave him a shot of dimrohl. He wasn't concerned for the hangover, but pulling the catheter out of a conscious patient was going to be unpleasant. Simon was almost relieved. Removing the catheter and IV gave him an excuse to not talk to Victor.

Simon had just finished when Mal's voice led him into the room. "I hear our patient's back among the living," he said. Mal looked around. "Where's Jayne?"

"I'm not sure," Simon said, confused. "I haven't seen him since we went to sleep last night. Why?"

Mal rolled his eyes. "Nothing." To Victor he said, "How you feeling?"

Victor stood, naked and proceeded to get dressed. Mal recognized it as an attempt to be off putting, but he'd chosen the wrong crowd. It was hard to tell who'd care less: the doctor, the soldier, or the killer witch watching from the door way.

"I feel like I lost a fight with a sledgehammer," Victor said. "Doctor Tam here has been taking good care of me, though. My father was a doctor you know. A plastic surgeon on Osiris."

"Small world," Simon said. Simon was fairly sure he'd never met a Dr. Prince. As a night-rotation trauma surgeon, their paths were unlikely to have crossed.

"I got a story that needs some holes filled in," Mal said. "Start where you think appropriate, but end with what happened to your fellow pirates."

Victor took a deep breath. "Yes, Captain,"he said. Victor sounded almost formal, as if he were giving a debriefing. As he spoke, he stood up straighter and spoke clearly, despite his obvious hangover. Mal made a mental note to ask whether Victor had been a soldier.

Victor told his story. "I heard about the stranded ship on Persephone. I keep a lot of legitimate and fake licenses to make myself more valuable to potential employees-"

Mal understood that to be a nice way of saying Victor was a professional mercenary.

"and when I heard about the ship, I called port control and registered myself as the 'first responder' and shipped out with those carrion eaters. It was a brilliant plan, too. Pretend we're there to help, give the nice people a ride to the nearest settlement, and keep everything worth keeping." Victor seemed proud of himself.

Mal had taken a morally dubious job or two in his day, so he kept quiet and told himself he was making no assumptions about Victor's character. Yes sir, he was making no assumptions about the murderous, thieving pirate who would leave poor people stranded and destitute just to make money. "So what went wrong?"

"I didn't have a chance to check my 'crew's' backgrounds. If I had, I would've known half of them had a propensity for rape and murder. Also, the other half had a propensity for letting them, then lying to their employers and fences about it so they could stay in business."

"So you took the high ground and chopped them to pieces and carved their sins into their flesh," Mal asked dryly.

Victor either didn't pick up on Mal's sarcasm, or didn't care. He simply nodded. "Who's the babe?" he asked, looking around Mal to the doorway, where half of River's head was in view.

"That's our witch," Mal said. "She can kill you with her mind."

Now _that_ got an actual reaction out of Victor. He looked back and forth from Simon to Mal, trying to tell if he was joking. Neither of them gave anything away. When the silence became awkward, Victor spoke. "Um... cool. Hey, there!"he said, waving at River.

River, who had been mostly hidden by the door, disappeared.

Victor blinked, wondering why she didn't at least say "Hi". He lifted his arm and took a sniff of his own armpit. "I was going to ask if I offend, but it's pretty obvious," he explained to Mal and Simon. "I need a shower."

"In a minute," Mal said. He still wasn't sure if he liked this man. Something about him seemed... off. Particularly, the way he spoke as though everything were a joke. "How come you recognized me?"

Victor regarded Mal carefully, not sure how to explain. "I'm a bit under the weather here, so take everything I say with a grain of salt.

On the core planets, your face and the faces of your crew gets constantly plastered all over every news bulletin. There's a five million large reward for _information_ that _leads_ to your capture."

Even Mal's eyes went wide at that number.

"That seems off," Simon said. "For that much the Alliance should be asking only for professional private agents to bring in the target alive and unhurt." He didn't know much about the Alliance's bounty hunters, but his scenario seemed more likely than a five million reward.

"It's a dead or alive bounty," Mal supplied, "masked with polite and civilized words like 'bring the dangerous fugitive to justice'."

Victor snapped his fingers and pointed at Mal with his hand in the shape of a gun. "You are correct, good sir!" he declared in game show host voice. "But, wait! It gets better!"

"I'm all ears," Mal said, crossing his arms in disapproval at Victor's seeming lack of regard to the plight of another human being.

"You, Cobb, Frye, and the Companion," Victor said, ticking off each member on a finger. "Your entire lives' stories are public record. Twisted, of course to make you all seem like crazy terrorists. I couldn't find anything on the Tams at all, except for privately posted vids of a dark haired Jane Doe in combat boots and spandex shorts trashing a border planet bar and the patrons in one go."

Mal could feel his veins standing out on his forehead. He tried to unclench his fists, but couldn't. Victor's extremely casual attitude about the people he cared about being turned into rats in a maze was really starting to rub him the wrong way. To Victor's detriment, he kept speaking.

"As best I can tell, they're keeping quiet about the Tams on the off chance they can be recaptured. I think their main priority is eliminating the crew of Serenity."

There was a loud, cracking noise as Mal inserted the toe of his boot, forcibly, into a lower cabinet. The cracking noise in this case was due to the door being on the receiving end of Newton's second law.

After another heavy silence, Simon spoke. "You seem awfully confident in your assessments. Who are you?"

"I'm a highly trained, competent professional. I specialize in finding creative solutions to unusual problems for the most discerning of public and private clients," Victor said. His tone of voice made it clear he'd recited that expression several times until it was second nature.

Simon felt sad that he understood exactly what Victor was saying. "That makes no sense. If you're a mercenary who works for the Allied Governments and their major corporations, why are you telling us all this? Why not turn us in and get the reward yourself?"

Mal and Simon both looked at Victor, waiting for an answer. Victor grinned from ear to ear, looking momentarily like an overgrown boy who had a great secret to tell. "I take it you're both ready for some good news?"

Mal had decided Victor was entirely too cheerful for his line of work. It was as if Kaylee were a sword wielding psychopath with no regard for anyone else. "I'm a little leery about your definition of 'good news'."

"Well...you remember that war you lost?"

Victor sounded like he was going to finish a thought, but Mal had one of his own. The Captain expressed said thought by slamming his hand around Victor's throat, choking both sound and air off. Victor was impressed by Mal's speed and strength. It took Simon pulling on Mal and Victor wedging one knee up between himself and his attacker just to get Victor's neck free. Mal's face was twisted into a rage Victor knew too well. It was blood lust, mixed with complete certainty in one's actions.

_I like this guy,_ Victor decided.

"Captain Reynolds, please calm down," Simon was saying, panicked.

Victor took the more direct route. He picked his other foot up off the ground and kicked out, letting himself fall flat on the floor. Exhausted as he was, his kick still had enough force to send Mal flying into the far wall. His head clicked against a cabinet, momentarily bringing him to his senses.

"What I was going to say," Victor began without bothering to move. He lay flat, staring up at the ceiling, "before I was so rudely interrupted... was that part two has started."

"What?" Mal demanded, rubbing the back of his head.

Victor sat up, looking at Mal. Nothing on his face said he had any concern for Mal's attempt to strangle him. "Revolution. Civil War. You started it." He grinned from ear to ear. It was the same face and the same expression, but this time Mal didn't see an overgrown man-child. This time Mal saw a hungry wolf looking at a fattened cow.

Mal froze as the full meaning of what the unusual mercenary said sank in.

"Get to that shower," Mal snapped. "Everyone's going to need to hear this." He stomped out of the room without another word.

Victor turned to Simon, not getting up. "You heard the man. Captain's orders," he said. "Get to steppin." He clapped his hands together twice. "Chop, chop!"

Simon looked down at his now former patient. "After you. I insist."


	3. EP 3 A Little Help From My Friends (p1)

River Tam lay on top of a large stack of crates staring off into space. None could see her face, but she looked like she was lost in her own world. The thought wouldn't concern any who knew her, as that was almost normal at this point. Below her, on Serenity's cargo bay floor, Snowball the Ferocious was currently engaged in a light wrestling match with Kaylee. Snowball, being a gentlemanly puppy, was letting her win. To the right of the wrestling match Zoe leaned against yet more cargo, keeping a close eye on Victor. She looked utterly calm and professional, but was ready to shoot him down with little to no notice. Victor had his weapons back and was standing with one foot propped up on a small, briefcase sized crate, in a ridiculous pose that made him look like he was under the delusion of being dashing. Granted, now that he was shaven and had his hair tied back in a ponytail, he looked much closer than he had before. Zoe never had Mal's gift for reading people, so she might not have been aware that Victor was doing it for her benefit (read: just to be annoying). Jayne was sitting on his weight bench, drinking a freshly rescued beer from a crate marked "FOODSTUFFS" with Inara and Simon on either side of him.

The fact that everyone was constantly shooting suspicious looks in his direction wasn't wasted on Victor.

_Well, not everyone,_ Victor thought. _At least the spooky girl has enough courtesy to continue with life as usual._

Mal took his time getting to the cargo bay. Auto pilot was great, but let it go for too long and you won't live to regret it. "Good: your all here," Mal said by way of introduction.

"You called us here," Jayne said, not happy to be kept waiting with no real explanation.

"And we were happy to answer the call and wait at your leisure, O Captain," Victor said, standing up straight and bowing. Bending at the waist, he realized he was using a martial artist's bow, not a theatrical one, but let it stand.

"Kiss ass," Jayne said.

"You wish," Victor said, grinning his goofy yet hungry grin.

"Zip it," Mal ordered. He pointed at Victor. "You. Tell them what you told me. About the revolution, not about your squabble with the vultures."

"Okay," Victor said, turning to address the whole room. "The broadcast about the Reavers and the Alliance's part in making them caused...a bit of a stir on the core planets."

There were murmurs of agreement and a few smirks at Victor's talent for understatement.

"A user by the name of Mr. Universe sent multiple copies of all relevant information, as well as several different levels of encryption, to basically all signal capable devices within broadcast range of Miranda."

Actually, Mal had done that, but no one corrected him.

"Here's where it gets really interesting: the stories didn't get swept under the rug fast enough. On the core planets, normal citizens began demanding release of information as well as government involvement and inquiry into the case. This led to peaceful protests, which led to lock down, which led to violent protests, which led to full on anti-government terrorist cells. These insurgents have been attacking everything from subsidized department stores and fast food restaurants to multiple attacks on Parliment members and their families."

"That's good for us, right?" Kaylee asked. "Now the Alliance has bigger problems than worrying about us."

"The Alliance are some mighty sore losers," Mal said. He informed his crew about the bounty on their heads. "We're all public enemies."

"We ain't even in public," Jayne said. The majority of his crew was used to Jayne's method of half paying attention until things directly concerned him. Victor's eyes went wide and his head turned slowly towards Jayne as Mal kept speaking.

"We're figureheads now," Mal said. "Celebrities. The Alliance needs us dead."

"We ain't the ones leading the attacks," Jayne protested. "Hell, I ain't done nothin but exercise and drink for goin on a month now."

"And you're just dandy at both," Mal assured him, "but we are the rallying cry. We may not be a direct threat, but the Alliance needs us dead just as sure as I plan to keep breathing."

"Is that the only reason you called us all out here?" Inara asked.

Mal took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. "No," he said. "I need you all to be aware of what's going on because it's going to come back to bite us." He looked at Inara directly. "I cost you your career, your life, and every last chance you had to go back to it. For that, I'm sorry."

"You didn't have a choice," Inara said. "If things were different-"

"I would have done the same thing," Mal snapped, stopping Inara short. He looked everyone else in the eye, one at a time before continuing. "I waited years, doing nothing about the Alliance. I let people I care about die. I even pulled the trigger on some of them. I've learned if there's one thing I've done wrong, it's hesitate."

"What are you saying, sir?" Zoe asked.

"I've been fine with running and hiding. I was fine with trying to live and let live, carving out what little freedom we could and enjoying it what little we could," Mal had begun pacing back and forth. "That's becoming_ impossible_. Soon, we have to fight back. That's why I called you all out here. This time, it's all or nothing."

Simon spoke up. "You're saying you plan to take down the Alliance? The whole thing... just gone?" He looked around to the rest of the room. "You realize what that means? How unlikely it is you'll succeed? What you'll have to do to succeed?"

Victor interjected in a bright, cheerful voice, "Even victory would mean death to thousands, if not millions of people. Not all of them will even deserve it."

Inara gasped at the thought. "The Alliance will hold you up as the bad guy."

Mal listened to everything, nodding and pacing. "It's the right thing to do."

"And you think you can do it?" Jayne asked.

"Let's put it this way: my options are fight or die," Mal said. "I'm going to fight. My enemy may be a beloved thousand year old system of governments, but I'm going to fight.

"Just like that?" Jayne asked.

"Just like that," Mal said. "You all have a decision to make. You don't have to tell me right now, but remember: this time it's for keeps. We fight until we win or die. No giving up. No stopping. No retreating."

"Not to be negative, but _can_ we just turn ourselves in?" Inara asked. "If we're such high value targets, the Alliance may let us live..." She didn't like the look in Mal's face. When he got that look, bad things happened.

"In a cage," Mal said softly. He stopped pacing. "No thank you."

"What about me?" Victor asked.

"What about you?" Mal asked. "I've been thinking about letting Jayne shoot you. He gets grumpy if he doesn't kill anyone for a while."

"Damn straight," Jayne said, finishing off his beer.

Mal had been trying to wipe that stupid grin off of Victor's face, but it didn't work. The man was too smug. "Okay," he began, "but if you _didn't, _I could go back home. I'm technically a licensed operative of the Alliance, even though I work freelance. I could go back home and/or back to work."

"Or turn us in," Zoe said. "Or go about your merry way, chopping people up like trees."

"Yeah," Victor agreed, showing no notice of Zoe's dry, fatalistic mood. "I got options, is all."

Mal stepped up to Victor and looked down at him. No mean feat, since Victor was almost five inches taller than him. "I've fought men like you before. I've fought _along side_ men like you before. You carry a sword because you like it. You want to pit yourself against opponents and win. You're not happy with just long life or prosperity. The Alliance may not be the place for you in this upcoming fight."

Victor's face went blank. Too blank. One could use the word "fake" or "sarcastic" to describe the lack of expression on his face. "Whatever could you mean, Captain?"

"Would you like to come work for me?" A loaded question, and a life decision, if ever one existed.

"You know, I'm kinda' rich," Victor said. "I'm not sure being a member of Serenity will keep me in the lifestyle I'm accustomed to."

Mal sighed and tried to focus. He found this boy irritating. Victor had this way of talking that made him sound like he was always joking. Still... Jayne was irritating sometimes. Come to think of it, everyone on his ship had gotten under his skin at one time or another.

"Life is about to get really dangerous for us," Mal said quietly. He chose his next words very carefully. "Do what I say, and I will keep you in _exactly_ the kind of life you're used to."

"Well okay," Victor said, almost instantly, "but but only for Snow."

At the sound of his name, Snowball cocked his head to the side.

"You'll never regret it," Mal said.

"Yes, sir Captain, sir!" Victor said in a crisp, clear voice. He snapped a perfect salute. Anyone who didn't know any better would think he was sincere.

Maybe he was.

"I want to fight," the girl out of sight said.

Everyone looked up. "River-" Simon started, but Mal held up his hand to silence him.

"I can do it," River protested, sensing her brother's general disagreement. "I was made to do it," she added softly.

"Like I said," Mal said. "_Everyone_ has a choice to make. In the meantime, we need to set down, get ready, and make a long term plan."

"Where are we going?" Zoe asked.

"Gold City."


	4. EP 4 Help From My Friends (part 2)

Mal sat in the pilot's seat, completely lost in thought. He'd liked to have kept the door closed, so he could hear it open when his crew started coming in to tell him their opinions of his newest and most suicidal of plans. He didn't. He'd been a Sargent long enough to know the value of not closing himself off from his people.

He was distracted by his own doubts. He knew he should feel bad. He should hate himself for thinking of the people closest to him as potential gains and losses. He'd hated it when the top brass treated him and his fellow soldiers that way. Mal sat back in his chair, scrubbing his fingers through his hair wishing one memory in particular would leave him alone.

_ "Get these bodies together!"_

_ "Sir, we got time for grave digging?"_

_ "Zoe, you and Simon are gonna rope 'em together. Five or six of them. I want em laid out on the nose of our ship."_

_ "Are you insane? I'm not gonna-"_

_ "Kaylee?"_

_ "I don't understand, what do you mean the bodies-"_

_ "I want you to muck up the reactor core. Just enough to leave a trail and make it read like we're flying without containment, not enough to fry us."_

_ "Yes, but these people are our friends!" Kaylee looked like she was about to start crying again._

_ "Kaylee!" Mal made sure he had her attention. "We got a day's work to do, and two hours to do it." When he was sure she understood, Mal turned. "Jayne! You and Wash, hoist up the canon mount. Goes right on top." To Wash: "A piece or two of the other ship, stick it on. Any place you can tear the hole without an inner breach, do that, too." Surveying the area, Mal continued. "We're gonna need paint. We're gonna need red paint."_

_ His brilliant plan becoming obvious, Zoe spoke. Angrily. "Sir, do you really mean to turn our home into an abomination so we can make a suicidal attempt at passing through Reaver space?"_

_ Mal prided himself on valuing others' opinions, but couldn't stop himself from becoming angry that his orders were being questioned. Fixing Zoe with his gaze he replied: "I mean to live. I mean for us to live. The Alliance won't have that so we go where they don't follow."_

_ Suddenly, his grief stricken crew found their voices again. Everyone was talking. Mal's vision was starting to go red and he missed the particulars, but the gist of it all was "No way!" Time was already a factor and Mal was in no mood to explain that capture meant death to those that needed explaining to. It was time to do or die. Not just for him, but for everyone. _

_ Everyone stopped talking. Mal realized they were looking at his hand. He'd drawn his weapon. On his friends. _Maybe that's what it takes to get them to pull their heads out of their peekoos today,_ Mal thought. It wasn't too bad, all considered. They'd all been through a lot the last few days, but still... Mal never thought the day would come when he'd have to resort to threatening his own friends._

_ Well... maybe Jayne._

_ "This is how it is. Anybody who doesn't wanna fly with me anymore, this is your port of harbor." Mal stepped past his crew having noticed an Alliance survivor trying to crawl his way out of the crashed ship. "There's a lot of fine ways to die, and I ain't waitin for the Alliance to chose mine." Barely breaking stride long enough to put his sights up, he shot the survivor dead in one smooth move at twenty-five yards. There was no real need for that. The man wasn't a threat, but he did help his people burn a town to the ground and kill innocent women and children. As such, Mal felt no moral qualms about killing him, just to reinforce his skill with a weapon to his crew._

_ "I mean to confound these bungers. Take my shot at gettin' to Miranda. Maybe find something I can use to get clear of this." He checked each face in turn to make sure everyone was still paying attention. Inara wouldn't even look at him, but he figured she could still hear just fine. "So I hear a word outta any of you that ain't helping me out or taking your leave and I will shoot. You. Down." Point firmly driven home, he stormed off, growling "Get to work."_

Mal came back to himself, staring at the reassuring black sky. No matter what happened, the sky was always there for him. _Is this who I'm going to be now? _Mal asked himself. _Is this who I have to be?_

"Oh, Book, I wish you were here," Mal said aloud.

"Me too," Zoe said from behind him. "Sheppard did have a way about him, didn't he?"

Mal swiveled in his chair. "How are you doing Zoe?"

Zoe smiled. Neither of them believed in small talk. "I've been better sir."

"What do you think of my brilliant plan?" Mal asked.

"I think it could use a little more brilliance," Zoe said dryly.

"Me too."

Zoe crossed her arms and leaned against the bulkhead. "I want you to know I'm in," Zoe said. "Although I may be of limited utility this year."

Mal frowned and sat up a little straighter. "What do you mean?"

"I'm pregnant."

Mal's mouth began opening and closing like a fish as he struggled to find words. He blinked a few times just to make sure he wasn't going cross eyed. "Pregnant? Like... with a baby?"

"Yes," Zoe said slowly in a voice most appropriate for dealing with drunks and crazy people.

Mal rubbed his face to try and wipe away his confusion. "Who's the father?"

Zoe raised an eyebrow with an incredulous look on her face. "Are you serious right now?"

Mal gave a start, standing as his brain seemed to kick back in gear. "Right, no," he said. "Wash and you..." he didn't like to think about Wash and Zoe and baby making all at the same time. Did weird things to his stomach. "What can I do to help?"

Zoe smiled. Some things Mal just didn't know how to handle. The baby wouldn't come for months yet and he was already flabbergasted. "Just take it under advisement if you would."

"Right, okay," Mal said. _That_ he could do. "I'll uh... keep my bar fights and explosions to a minimum in your presence then."

"Much appreciated, sir." Zoe sighed. "I'd also appreciate it if you let me tell the others when it's time."

"I'd never dream of denying you the pleasure," Mal said.

Down in the cargo bay, Victor was bench pressing a standard 225lb load with Jayne spotting him. Jayne was talking while he was trying to count. Victor knew he was over fifteen, but couldn't concentrate. Between Jayne's ranting and River playing ball with Snow, he'd pretty much given up on getting a good workout.

"I mean, Mal already got us to take one suicide mission," he was saying. "Now he's saying 'Hey let's do those every day from now on?'" Jayne snorted. "He's finally gone off the deep end. I'm out. This is one too many for 'ol Jayne."

Victor finally slammed the bar back down and sat up. "I'm surprised at you," he said.

"Why?"

As he and Jayne traded places he said, "Well, first of all he never said anything about suicide missions, this is going to be real smoke and mirrors style stuff," Victor said. "You know, guerilla warfare. Maximum psychological impact with minimum effort."

Jayne started lifting. "Yeah?" he asked. He didn't know about the maximum gorillas or whatever, but the minimum effort part sounded right up his alley.

"Besides, there's going to be _so_ much loot," Victor continued. "And girls love war heroes. All those exciting stories and whatnot."

Jayne thought about it. Being with Mal had just started paying well. Selling valuables from Miranda had put some real cash under his mattress. If there were more easy jobs that paid well coming... "Maybe I'll stick around for a little longer, but I'm not doin' anymore suicide missions!"

Victor turned his head slightly and made sure Jayne couldn't see him grin. "Cool," he said. "I was hoping you'd show me the ropes, anyway."

Kaylee lay in a tangle of clothes on the engine room floor. Being naked in the engine room had become almost normal since she and Simon had finally gotten together. Kaylee always like being here. It was the most peaceful and soothing place she could imagine. Simon was standing and pulling his clothes back on. He like the engine room okay, but the grates on the floor had been digging into his bare backside.

"You're not thinking about leaving are you?" Kaylee asked, suddenly. She could tell Simon was in a bad mood.

"What?" Simon asked, spinning around. "No!"

"Then what's wrong?" Kaylee asked, sitting up. The clothes she'd been laying under/on/around fell away, revealing one hundred percent bare Kaylee.

Simon forgot why he was getting dressed, then he remembered: cold steel grating and red marks in his butt. He and Kaylee could continue when they made their way to a nice soft bed. "River."

Kaylee's eyes narrowed. "You were thinking about your sister while we were having sex?" she stood and planted her hands on her hips. "That's a little weird, Simon." Then, "My eyes are up here!"

Simon kept his eyes planted firmly on Kaylee's body and shook his head. "That only works if you have clothes on."

"I'm trying to be serious here," Kaylee said, hugging Simon close. She wished she had Inara's way with men. "What's wrong?"

"River said she want's to fight."

"So?" Kaylee said, looking up at her boyfriend. "We're all going to have to do our part if were gonna stay on Serenity."

"I know, it's just..." Simon didn't know how to put it to words. "It bothers me that she's willing to... I don't know what I'm trying to say." He sighed.

"I get it," Kaylee said.

"You do?"

"Sure," Kaylee said. "Your sister's all grown up and your worried about the person she's become."

"What?" Simon asked, dumbfounded. "Grown up? I just barely found a medicine that can keep her from dreaming so she won't have nightmares and wake up. That eliminated the side effects of sleep deprivation. She's on anti depressants and anxiety meds just to help her cope with the psychological trauma of what happened to her and, oh yeah, those have to be switched out every forty eight hours so her body doesn't quit absorbing them which I'm pretty sure is something they did to her at the Academy. And let's not forget I still can't figure out how much of her mental state is due to psych trauma and how much is constructed for whatever gorram reason her 'teachers'-"

He'd begun talking faster and faster in an increasing pitch. Kaylee clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shh... breath through your nose." When he did take a deep breath, Kaylee continued. "You done great by your sister. Noone else coulda' done what you did. What I'm saying is: what was the point of rescuing her if you won't let her chose how to live her life?"

"She's a special girl who needs special care, not to go off on a fight which is likely going to blow back on people we know and care about on the core worlds-"

Kaylee clamped her hand back over Simon's mouth. A lump of ice formed in the bottom of her stomach at Simon's mention of how "special" another woman was. _I'm not jealous of my boyfriend's baby sister,_ she told herself angrily. _Even if he never talks about me with such passion._ "Simon," she said sternly. "She's not just your patient. She's your sister."

A seed of what Kaylee was saying finally broke through the fog of worry in Simon's mind. "Your right," he said finally, resting his chin on her head. "I love you."

"I love you too," Kaylee said. She still couldn't stop from asking herself if he'd ever put her first, though.

Mal spent the rest of the day and most of the night in the pilot's chair. Around "midnight", River breezed into the helm, barefoot.

"Hello, Captain," she said in a dreamy, distracted voice. Mal had thought she'd lose that as she started to get better, but it turned out being a natural born super genius tends to make one a little spacey sometimes. Who knew?

"Hello, little Albatross," Mal said. "Couldn't sleep?"

River finally quit looking all around the helm and focused on Mal. "I slept. Four hours, every night. I think it's normal. I feel quite rested." She breezed on over to the copilot's chair and sat, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "I meant what I said, before."

"I believe you," Mal said. "If you want to stand and fight, you've got a place with me. Always."

"Okay," River said, as if the matter were settled. Just like that, she stood up and pranced out of the room, looking for all the world like a little girl practicing ballet.

"She's a hoot," Mal said, getting up and going to his own bunk. It was getting late. Serenity would make landfall in about ten hours and he wanted to get some sleep. "The tough conversation can wait until tomorrow," he assured himself.

He still hadn't heard from Inara.

Inara made her way to Mal's bunk. She tried to keep her center, but it wasn't working for some reason. Her heart wouldn't stop racing, but her hands were steady. This had been a long time coming, so she was fairly confident in her course of action.

She climbed the ladder down into his bunk where he was already asleep. She dropped her robe and climbed, nude under the covers with him. "Mal," she whispered at just the right volume to make him wake up slowly. She knew he was prone to jumping out of bed, gun in hand. It wasn't particularly uncommon for those who fought in the war.

As she'd planned, Mal woke slow and fixed his eyes on her. "I'm dreaming?" he asked.

Inara smiled. "Yes." She kissed him, soft and slow. To both their surprise, there was nothing awkward or hesitant about it. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

As their lips were pressed together, Inara rolled over on top of Mal. Mal noticed for the first time she didn't have any clothes on. "What-" he began breaking the kiss.

Inara put a finger on his lips, silencing him. "We can talk tomorrow," she said. "This has been hanging over our heads for too long. We'll never be able to speak plainly until we come to terms with how we feel about each other."

Mal grabbed the back of Inara's neck and pulled her down to kiss him again. This time it was hungry, not soft. In the middle of it, she ripped Mal's boxers off, kicking his bedding with it. She knew she should take it slow at first to make the eventual release more powerful, but Mal's hunger for her was infectious and she was pawing at him just as frantically as he was at her. Inara didn't mind. They had all night to get it just right.


	5. EP 5 Gold City

Author's note: I realize the story is getting a bit heavy, but bear with it. We're about to start getting some forward momentum.

Mal managed to get an hour of sleep that night in spite of himself. He woke the next day, alone. His first thought was that the night had really been a dream, but he could still smell Inara's perfume. "Well that's rude," he muttered, dragging his carcass out of bed. _What was it she said?_ Mal asked himself, getting dressed. _We can't "speak plainly" with "this" hanging over our heads?_ Fully clothed, Mal shook his head. "Sure," he said aloud. "Let's replace our unspoken sexual tension with a different kind of tension." Mal realized he had no clue how to proceed from here. He began climbing out of his quarters and looked around. He needed to check the autopilot and get a countdown going for an entry sequence to Gold City. He turned to face the kitchen and started walking. Maintaining control of his ship was all well and good, but also _coffee._

Mal shuffled into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He put the kitchen's intercom on a full ship broadcast. "River, the ship is yours," he said into the small speaker. Sometimes being the boss was good. Especially when there was coffee involved.

Surprisingly, River's voice came on the kitchen speaker immediately, not echoing through the ship. That meant that River knew where Mal was and was within arms length of a com unit. "I know."

"It's creepy how she does that, huh?" a voice said.

Mal flinched and spun, uttering his trade marked warrior's cry. "She ain't the only one who's creepy," Mal said to Victor. Victor looked ready for planet fall. He'd changed swords to a longer, two handed number with a curved blade and was wearing a long, black coat. The coat had bright, yellow reflective material running across it. It took Mal a minute to realize this man was wearing an ankle length fireman's jacket. "Nice coat," Mal said, turning to pour himself a mug of joe. He'd been planning on guzzling the whole thing down out of the pot, but it seemed a little undignified to do it in front of people. And Inara always questioned his manners.

Victor looked himself up and down. "It was on sale," he said defensively.

That actually got a small laugh out of Mal as he sat at the table. "Go round up everyone 'cept River. We'll have to start landing soon."

"Yes, sir, Captain, sir!" Victor said in his best "professional" voice. Mal found it irritating, but if it helped him get his job done...

Victor walked over to the com unit Mal had just been using. He put it back on the open channel and said "All personnel currently not piloting the ship, to the dining hall."

Damn. Mal had been hoping Victor would go retrieve everyone manually, so he could drink all the coffee without sharing. "Want a cup?" he said in a bleary and grumpy voice, pointing his mug at the coffee pot he'd placed on the table.

Victor took a chair and sat, with his feet up on the table. "No thanks," he said, taking something out of a pocket. "Coffee always did weird things to my stomach." In his hand was a vial of white powder with a tiny spoon built into the lid. He popped the top and held the spoon under his nose. Closing his other nostril he sniffed up the dose and immediately held his nose to spare himself any excessive sniffing. He returned his vial to his pocket with a speed and grace that suggested years of practice.

Mal just rolled his eyes. He was no one's father and what his crew chose to put into their bodies was their own business. If Victor got unruly, Mal had the Dragon.

"Late night?" Victor asked, way too chipper for this early in the morning. "River said you and Inara were still awake."

That gave Mal a start. "What?"

Victor laced both hands behind his head. "I was up all night, too. My sleep cycle's a little off thanks to the week I spent drifting through space, trying to keep the crushing sense of impending doom at bay with large quantities of alcohol."

Mal made a "get on with it" gesture with one hand. "As one is wont to do..."

"So I was up, exercising, when spooky girl just wanders in and starts talking to me," Victor concluded. "She seems a little... off... ya' know?"

"I know," Mal said.

"Yeah, I thought I'd say something in case you were unaware, seeing as how you're the Captain and all, but if you've got the situation under control, I guess you really don't need my two pieces on the matter."

Mal finished off the rest of his coffee, thanking God everyone else on the ship was having a slow morning as well. "You talk too much."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Victor said, lacking in sympathy for Mal's obvious pain. "So what's up with Gold City? Is it like... you're super secret hideout or something?"

Mal considered answering like a normal person. Hump that. "Talk to Kaylee. She likes to talk."

Victor cocked his head to the side. "Anyone ever tell you you're not a morning person?"

"Only for the past five decades," Mal said, standing up and stretching. The coffee was working its magic. Which was convenient. Kaylee had just bounced into the room with Simon and Snow in her wake.

"Good morning, Captain!" she said cheerfully, prancing over to the table and picking up the coffee pot. She proceeded to make another coffee pot, forestalling the wrath of the grumpy man with sleep deprivation. Besides, Mal had yet to meet the person who could stay mad at Kaylee for more than a few seconds at a time.

"Is there an emergency?" Simon asked. He was dressed in his "nice" clothes in anticipation of Gold City. "Why do you need us all here?"

Mal made a grunting noise, eying the coffee pot.

Victor picked up Snow and gave him a protein dog biscuit out of another of his coat's many pockets. "My grumpy old soldier is a little rusty, but I think the good Captain wants to wait for everyone so he only has to explain everything once."

Mal made another grunting noise.

"He says I'm correct in my assessment and also that my deep insight is of value to not only to myself, but those around me," Victor translated.

Mal leaned against the far wall, as far from human contact as he could get in the tiny kitchen and grunted again.

"He wants me to be quiet," Victor whispered in a voice louder than he'd been speaking before.

It wasn't long before everyone else filed into the kitchen with the exception of River. Mal noticed with a small amount of bitterness than Inara was looking perfect as usual, as though nothing of significance had happened the night before. He considered barging into her shuttle later (she liked that), but knew today was going to be busy. Being a responsible Captain was wearing.

"All right," Mal began. "When we get planet side myself, Inara, and the doctor go say hello to the fine ladies at the Heart of Gold."

Jayne immediately opened his mouth to protest.

"So that tonight, when we're all done making _our_ services available to the Heart, you'll be free to make use of _their _services," Mal finished.

Jayne smiled. "Good thinking."

Victor raised his hand. "Question: You know how the Alliance has way points out on the Rim for returning deployees to take shore leave?"

"What about it?" Mal asked.

"I need to get to the nearest one to get my bank accounts turned into good old fashioned precious metals," Victor said as his furry companion found the perfect way to sit on his lap for sleeping.

"You're welcome to come too. There's one such way port about a four hour ride by horseback from where we'll be." Mal said. "Just stay out of trouble."

A hurt look of pure innocence appeared on Victor's face. "Of course, Captain. I would never dream of causing trouble."

"Petaline kept saying she could use our help last time we spoke," Inara said. Mal found himself wishing the others weren't around. He'd rather be talking to her about last night. This "pretend like nothing was different" routine was far outside his comfort zone.

_She's probably used to it,_ Mal thought.

"Someone else is trying to cause her problems?" Zoe asked.

"Nothing like that," Inara said. "She wants to hire us."

"Who wouldn't?" Victor said, not really following what everyone else was talking about. "I mean... right?"

"What about our brilliant plan to unseat a government and plunge the galaxy into chaos?" Simon asked.

Mal shared a look with Zoe as he started to wonder if Simon was going to be this negative from now on. "It needs more brilliance," he said, "and less chaos." He paused for a second. "I wanna' capture an Alliance cruiser."

Stunned silence met that declaration. Before anyone could make sense of it, Mal continued.

"To do that, we need money. That means doing more jobs first. We'll also need to raise an army."

"How are we gonna' do that?" Zoe asked.

Mal shrugged. He had ideas and plans floating around in his head, but there was no point in explaining everything only to change it at the last minute. Real life never went according to plan. "First things first. Let's go see what Miss Petaline has in store for us."

Gold City

Mal, Inara, the Tams, and Victor all filed out of Inara's shuttle, which Inara had parked in an unused horse pasture. Last time they were here, Mal had just landed the whole ship closer, but he'd wanted to give Serenity a nice space cushion in case he needed to run. It wouldn't do to have someone getting bright ideas about turning him in to the Alliance and making a connection between The Heart of Gold and Serenity.

The Heart of Gold was much bigger than before. There was an entire second wing built on. In front of the Heart stretched a long, straight road with buildings on either side of it. The buildings all appeared to be made out of wood, but shared the Hearts distinct solar sheeting. The Heart of Gold was now the figurative "heart" of its ambitiously named "city", which was currently a small town.

Feet on the ground, the crew was met with the smiling faces of many well dressed and highly decorated prostitute type persons. They actually cheered and clapped seeing Mal and the others.

Mal walked up to Petaline, who was front and center. "What did we do to deserve all this?" Mal asked, trying to smile and wave at his onlookers without looking like an idiot.

"Don't be silly," Petaline said, kissing his cheeks one at a time. "You folks saved the town. A warm welcome's the least we can do. No one messes with us anymore. Burgess is gone, so there's no work for his gangsters. They had to get back to honest mining or leave." She took Mal by the arm, rattling off about all the good things that had been happening since Mal had last been here. Her coworkers fanned out and took each of the crew members by the arms as well. Everyone except Mal had two whores on either side. River actually had one woman and one of what Kaylee affectionately called "boy whores" on either arm. Inara was the only one left to walk alone, which was a point of honor for a Companion. Guild law stated none touched a Companion except without her permission.

"So where's Jayne? I miss him," a tall, blonde woman holding Victor's arm asked.

Victor noticed the ladies holding his arms were the tallest of the bunch. They'd probably picked him so they could hold his arms without interrupting his stride. Maybe it was so they wouldn't risk looming over Simon. If they were good at their job, probably both.

"He's currently guarding the ship against any and all miscreant that would think to do it harm," Victor said, "but I'm sure he's planning on rushing here just as soon as he can. I hope you ladies don't have a full docket tonight."

"Oh our primary business has slowed down a lot," Petaline said, over her shoulder. "Truth be told, I own half the town and the Heart only accounts for about thirty percent of our revenue."

Inara laughed. "Listen to you, you sound like a business woman."

"I am, these days," Petaline said with a laugh of her own. They'd reached the door to the main building, the one that Mal had been familiar with. There was no sign of the battle they'd fought before. "It's why I'm glad you guys finally made it back out here. We could really use your help."

"How so?" Mal asked as Petaline sat them both down on a couch. Her associates took her cue and left everyone else to sit as well. "Someone else is causing your trouble?"

"Well, like I was saying," Petaline continued, "we've expanded our operations. The Heart owns pretty much every horse in town, the barber shop, the clothing store, and we got more work than people who can handle it. Not to mention there's more gold mines being opened out in the mountains every day. That means more and more people keep moving here and-"

"Whoa, slow down," Mal said. Petaline was sitting uncomfortable close to him, with both of her hands on his leg. Not surprising, considering her career. "You want to put us to _work_? Most of us ain't quite that pretty. Well, maybe the doctor, but-"

"Hey!" Simon protested from his seat on a smaller couch. One of the Heart's girls had a long leg draped over his which he was trying hard to pretend wasn't there.

"No, silly!" Petaline said, slapping Mal playfully on the arm. "You got a ship, and we need stuff delivered; construction materials and the like."

"Honest smuggling seems like a better use of our talents," Mal said.

"It's hard to get the sheer volume of supplies we need without knowing the right people," Petaline explained. "For those like us..."

Mal was starting to understand. Official supply chains wouldn't put "Whore City" on a shipping manifest. It made Mal wonder how much further along Gold City would be if Petaline had access to better services. "Maybe we could help each other. See... we're in a peck of trouble with the Alliance these days-"

Victor, who'd been sitting in an easy chair with the tall blond woman Helen on his lap, stood. He didn't bother with waiting for her to get up. He simply picked her up and put her back down in the chair himself. She seemed the sort to appreciate such shows of strength in her men. Picking up his sword from beside the chair, he placed the scabbard back into the loop hanging from his belt and tightened the screw that held it in place. "Miss Petaline," he said. I have some unrelated business to attend to in Waypoint. Would it be at all possible to borrow a car, hovercraft, or motorbike of some kind?" Victor made sure to use his most pleasant "talking to pretty ladies" demeanor.

"We got a hovercraft, but it might be cheaper just to take a horse. The stable fees at Waypoint are cheaper than parking fees," Petaline said.

"Alas, but I'm not worthy of such fine animals," Victor said. He had no idea the condition of her horses, but he was a poor rider. He'd always preferred machines, anyway. "But something with a motor...?"

"We got a hovercraft," Petaline said. "Cathy can show you the way, she knows the key codes." A younger girl at the bar waved at Victor.

"Well it is with much sadness I bid you fine ladies ado," Victor said, walking over to Cathy.

"Don't go alone," Mal said.

_That_ gave Victor a start. "You think I need a babysitter?"

"No. If you die or do anything to draw attention to us, I want someone there to run back and tell us so we don't have to come looking for your body," Mal said.

"That's..." Victor began, looking for something smart assed to say, "pretty genius, actually." He strode over to the overstuffed armchair where River was sitting with her feet up on the chair. Bowing and kicking out a leg he extended his hand. "Missus Tam, would you do me the great honor of following me around and being my non-babysitter for the day?"

River had been staring off into the distance but jumped at the sound of her name. She'd been distracted by the sheer number of people's thoughts pressing in on her mind. At being suddenly and directly addressed, she hugged her knees tight to her chest and tried to melt into the chair. She wished Victor would stop paying so much direct attention to her. It felt disorienting to see herself from outside while feeling herself from inside.

Seeing a pretty girl recoil so completely from him deflated even Victor's ego. Disheartened he said, "Damn. Don't sugar coat it babe, tell me what you really think."

"Good luck with that," Mal said before going back to his conversation with Petaline.

"Victor!" Simon shouted, finally freeing himself from his escort. "What makes you think River even wants to come with you. She obviously can't stand you-"

Victor began pointing at the present company. Mal: "He's busy." Inara: "She draws too much attention." Simon: "You're boring." Looking around: "Everyone else would demand I pay them."

"What if she has an episode?"

"I want to go," River said finally. "It'll be nice to get out for once. Besides, someone has to go and keep him under control." River still wouldn't look directly at Victor.

"There's no outdoor vid cams in Waypoint. They're banned, so if she freaks out, no one's the wiser," Victor supplied.

Simon looked back and forth between River and Victor. Finally, he took River's hands and pulled her to her feet. Stepping off a short distance he whispered to River "If he touches you at all, just break his arm okay?"

River shot her brother an incredulous look. "You are such a boob."

"Told you so," Victor said.

"I was talking about both of you."


	6. EP 6 Loves Me Not

Victor and River sat side by side in the metallic silver speeder. Cathy had said the previous owner, a man named Burgess was a "right bastard". She'd painted the gold heart on the hood herself.

Victor had set the autopilot toward Waypoint. The semi-desert landscape was blurring past, their passing occasionally startling small animals. Victor was talking, trying to engage River in conversation, but it wasn't working. He was beginning to regret his "ask the pretty girl to come along" plan. The awkward silence coming from the passenger seat was beginning to make his ears hurt.

"So..." Victor was saying. "Where you from?"

River said nothing.

"That's cool..." Victor said lamely. "I'm originally from Osiris. My dad was a plastic surgeon, but joined the Unification War. So we got moved out to Mai Long, this dingy little moon a few orbits out from Persephone."

River said nothing.

"Yeah, so... he died in the war. A lot of people did, really, so I guess it's not the most unusual story, but... you know... It's _my_ story so... whatever."

River said nothing.

Victor could feel himself start to sweat. This girl was making him nervous. "Yeah, I tried to join the Space Forces like my brother... but I got in trouble... in basic."

River said nothing.

"I knuckle-punched my drill instructor in the throat. It was totally his fault. He was like...two inches from my face, just _screaming_ about something." That story had to get a reaction. Sometimes it impressed people. Sometimes people were offended Victor would do something so heinous. Either way, that story always got a reaction.

River said nothing.

"Yeah-" Victor cleared his throat. "Uh... my brother got me a job with Securicorp. Solutions and...the rest is... history."

River said nothing. Either she was really uninterested in Victor, or she was _way_ too interested in watching the ground speed by. Victor found each option a little sad.

"So.." Victor began. He briefly considered not talking anymore, but curiosity had the better of him. What would it take to get River to talk? "Your brother's a doctor... that means you went to a university, right?"

River finally reacted. Victor breathed a sigh of relief as River blinked and turned to face him. "No. I got accepted into the Academy."

Victor scanned his memory. "Academy... _the_ Academy?" He grinned. "I tried to get in when I was little. My test scores were two percent too low. Also, my psych profile denoted a tendency toward violent and anti social behavior, which is a load of gossen if I've ever heard one." Victor had been disappointed at the time, but quickly got over it. "What was it like?"

"It..." River began, staring off into the distance again. She tried to remember. Normally she tried to block those memories out, but she knew pretending nothing had happened didn't help. A lot of her memories were unreliable anyway. There were fabrications and extractions to sift through, each one more real than the last.

As she tried to get her thoughts together, she began breathing in fast shallow breaths. Victor saw her eyes go wide and thought for a moment she looked like a rabbit caught in a trap.

"I can't... go back," River gasped. She was truly hyperventilating now. The extra oxygen in her brain lent strength to her budding hallucination. The dash to the airspeeder flickered. It was momentarily the one from the speeder her "teachers" used to transport her from class to class. Outside, the landscape kept changing. One moment: desert. The next: dark sky's over a city.

"River," Victor said, concerned. The girl looked like she was having trouble. River looked to her left again. This time she saw two people. Victor and a teacher. They were right on top of each other, but River could see both of them clearly. "It's all right," they both said. "Just breath slow."

"Another experiment?!" River shrieked, terrified. She began yanking repeatedly on her door handle. It wouldn't open while the speeder was in motion. "No!"

The man/men sitting next to her said something that she didn't hear over the sound of her own beating heart.

"Yeah, if you want to stop, I can, but the autopilot's on and we're moving kind of fast so I don't think-" Victor cut short as River tried to jump from the moving speeder.

River was in two speeders at this point: one real and one not. She'd lost track of which was which and decided to take advantage of one of the vehicles' structural weaknesses: it had no roof.

"Run. Run. Run!" she told herself. Propping one foot up on the side of the door she made a leap for freedom.

Victor remembered what happened next in perfect clarity. Torn between disengaging the autopilot and helping River, his body took over. Diving across the cabin, he grabbed a handful of skirt and spandex shorts, fingernails cutting into River's back . River weighed less than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Victor weighed over two-thirty, last he checked. Not giving River a chance to react, he pulled hard on her dress, snatching her from the air.

Victor had a long history of laughing at inappropriate or stressful moments. It had given him no shortage of enemies, but he couldn't have stopped himself even if he wanted to. When he yanked on River's clothes, she changed directions so suddenly all he could think of was a small, yappy dog running to the end of it's leash only to get spun around at the last second. Add that to the sound of ripping skirt and the flash of pale butt cheeks as River's shorts stretched out like a rubber band, and Victor began laughing like a mad man.

Uttering a cry that sounded like "Blerg!", River found herself being sucked back into her prison transport(s). Now laying on her back with her legs handing out the window, she heard her captor laughing and realized the whole thing had been a trick. There'd never been a chance for her to escape that way. Spitting a colorful curse in Chinese (Victor later recalled hearing "shit brained son of a goat humper") she spun around. Now that her feet were facing the _inside_ of the cabin, she could fight. Kicking out with both feet, she connected solidly with the laughing man's head. While he was still recoiling from her fist kick, she kicked the control yoke of the speeder forward.

"Holy fuck," Victor sputtered as he realized what was happening. The vehicle's speed was set. The kick to the yoke had sent the speeder into a nose dive.

"If I'm going down, you're going down with me," River snarled.

Victor barely pulled up on the control yoke in time to keep the speeder in one piece. Even so, the speeder bounced off the ground bottom first and skipped like a rock. On the first skip, Victor and River were ejected from the vehicle. The speeder shut down and slid to a stop. As he fell from the sky with River, he had time to think _Why did they make a speeder with no safety harness?_

The fall was a little over ten feet and into soft sand, sparing either of the crashees serious injury. It still hurt though. A lot.

Victor pulled himself to his feet. A lifetime of fighting had taught him to never stay down. "Why?" was all he could get out before River kicked her feet up. Her whole body followed the motion of her boots in an "S" shape before her momentum landed her on her feet. Without looking to see if her captor was in pursuit, she sprinted for the speeder, torn dress streaming out behind her, barely holding on by the sleeves. River was going to use the very means of her capture to escape.

Victor went from being confused to enraged. He was beyond being sensitive to what ever River had wrong with her at this point. She'd just tried to kill him. _Twice._ In Victor's mind, that was a "no, no". Determined to stop her, he broke into his own sprint. Being nearly two feet taller and having trained for years at chasing people down, he caught up with her. Despite his "advantages", it still took every ounce of strength just to close the distance.

"River, stop!" he shouted. River did no such thing and for a moment Victor was glad. Even if she had stopped, he probably wouldn't have. Now that the distance between them was close, Victor snatched at River again. This time, he caught a handful of her hair.

Pulling hard toward himself, he briefly had an image of her whole scalp popping off in a bloody mess. The idea didn't make him hold back though. He was still too angry.

Fortunately, the integrity of River's scalp held. Roaring wordlessly, Victor slammed River to the ground, knocking the air and fight out of her.

Moving a safe distance away from the gasping girl, Victor shouted "_What the hell is wrong with you, woman?!_" Later, he'd feel bad about that.

River lay on her back gasping and twitching. Victor's first thought was that he'd injured her spinal cord. When he heard what she was trying to say, he realized the twitches were probably from excess adrenaline.

"S...S...Sorry," she stammered around her hitching breath. She seemed to be convulsing.

"Sit up," Victor snapped, stepping closer. "You're turning pale. If you don't calm down, you may go into shock and pass out." His adrenaline and pulse rate was up as well. The difference was he preferred it that way. It made him feel alive. "Come on" he said, stepping behind River. He propped her up in the sitting position, using his legs as a back rest. "No blood, no foul. We're both okay. Just breath," he said in what was meant to be a soothing voice.

Truth be told, Victor didn't know if they were stranded. The speeder may have been totalled. Also his neck was killing him. He'd rolled with the "double face kick of fury" as best he could, but it still hurt like hell. Insensitive and angry as he was, Victor knew better than to tell these things to a mental patient having a psychotic episode.

Tears were streaming out of River's face now. Victor heard her whisper something like "girl not a monster" before she began trying to speak between sobs.

"Can you (hic) get my (hic) bag?"

"Are you going to run away?"

River shook her head and Victor trusted she was telling the truth.

Striding to the speeder, he shook his head. He knew he should have come alone. He looked off into the distance. It was almost midday and he could see Waypoint from where he was standing. Retrieving River's leather satchel and returning, he pondered how long it would take to walk if the speeder didn't turn back on.

Walking back to River, who's back was turned, he began laughing quietly. Her dress was split from the bottom up to the collar. He had a mental image of her trying to walk around town like that. In his head, she looked ridiculous, not sad.

"You're purse, my lady," he said, handing River her satchel.

"What's so funny?" River asked as Victor continued to chuckle.

"I'm sorry, it's just... you look like you just survived a bad rape attempt."

River's eyes went wide with surprise and disgust as she struggled to undo the belt on her satchel. "That's not funny!" she snapped.

Victor took a seat in front of River. He had his normal grin fixed on his face. "Babe, you just kicked me in the face so hard I fell out of the sky. Trust me: everything is funny right now." Seeing how much trouble River was having with her satchel (or more accurately, her shaky hands) he took the satchel from her and opened it. "What are we looking for?"

River removed a prefilled syringe-and-needle as well as a small alcohol wipe in a paper wrapper. "It's a tranquilizer and anti-anxiety med blend... for just such an emergency." She placed the med supplies on the lap of what could theoretically be called her "dress" and retrieved a blue, rubber pressure band from her bag. "Simon can't fix what they did to me at the Academy, but he said we could manage the side effects."

"What do you mean?" Victor asked. Seeing how much trouble she was having, he tied the pressure band himself. When her veins distended, he wiped one clean and administered the dose. He even knew to take off the pressure band before pushing the plunger on the syringe. Then, he stabbed the needle face down in the dirt on the remote chance someone might step on it.

"How do you know how to do that?" River asked.

"Job requirement," Victor said. He held River's arm in one hand with his thumb over the injection site to prevent it from bleeding. River noticed his grip went all the way around to the point where his forefinger was resting on top of his thumb, lending to the pressure. "In my line of work, everyone was required to know some emergency medicine. I was the only one on my team to show any real aptitude, so I got an actual paramedic's license and everything."

"Mal, Zoe, and Jayne were paramedics once," River said, relaxing as the drugs began to take effect. "They had do kill me and Simon, but Jayne brought us back to life so Simon could look at my brain."

"Indeed," Victor said, dismissing what River said as post-paranoia ranting. "What were you saying before about what the Academy did?"

"The Academy was a front for a psychic assassin training program. Part of the training involved cutting into my brain and putting the training directly into my mind. Since it was all experimental, Simon has no way of knowing exactly what was done to me or how to fix it."

Victor froze, staring at River. His grin faded. He waited a moment, fully expecting River to say she was joking. When he realized she was serious and cognizant, he spoke. "Dude... that's pretty fucked up."

"Indeed," River said, making fun of Victor. They both smiled at that one.

"Look," Victor started. "I'm sorry I asked you to come with me. I didn't know it was going to cause you problems. I probably should have listened to your brother-"

River grabbed Victor's coat sleeve. "Don't tell him, please," she said suddenly.

"Huh?" Victor asked, confused.

"He thinks I'm better than I am," she explained. "I'm doing good, but sometimes..."

"Sometimes not so much," Victor finished. He tried to run his hands through his hair, forgetting he had a ponytail these days. "Look, babe... If you're still doing this bad, maybe telling the doctor is a _good_ idea-"

River began shaking Victor's arm and looked like she was about to start crying again. "No! He's already done everything he can. I'm doing better, but you can't tell him, please!"

Victor took her hand off his coat and held it in both of his. An onlooker might have taken it as a romantic gesture. Victor was more concerned with having his arm shaken off. "I'll keep it to myself, okay? Just relax, babe."

"Stop calling me that," River said.

"Yes, ma'am," Victor said without missing a beat. "If you can stand, I'll see what I can do about fixing your dress. Then we can check the speeder."

"Okay," River said standing. Victor took a roll of duct tape out of his coat and set about taping the back of River's dress closed.

"You keep duct tape in your coat?" River asked, holding her hair up out of the way.

"I keep everything in my coat. I'm like Batman," Victor said, finishing up with River's dress.

"Who?" River asked.

"Earth That Was legend," Victor said, dismissively. At his company, he'd always been given a hard time for his passion for old movies. "Ask me sometime and I'll show you the movies."

"How do I look?" River asked in regard to Victor's handiwork.

"Like a pretty girl in a seriously messed up dress," Victor said, cheerfully.

"Great," River moaned.

"Fear not kind lady!" Victor declared sounding like an actor on a stage. "For I have... a plan!"

River turned and clasped her hands together beneath her chin, playing along. "Whatever could your amazing plan be, Mr. Prince?" She batted her eyes and pretended to resist swooning.

"I plan to..." Victor began pinwheeling his arms in a bad kung fu drill. When he stopped, one hand was pointed towards Waypoint. "Take you shopping!"

I spite of herself, River laughed. Victor had a way of making everything seem less serious. His energy was infectious, too. It was as if the Captain were a professional entertainer. As miserable as River felt, she was surprised that she was looking forward to something as simple as getting a new dress.


	7. EP 7 First Date (part 1)

"Of all evil I deem you capable: Therefore I want good from you. Verily, I have often laughed at weaklings who thought themselves good because they had no claws."

-Friedrich Nietzsche, self important jerk who occasionally made really good points.

"Honey, we're crooks. If everything were right, we'd be in jail."

-Hoban Washburne, awesome.

Michael listened carefully to his radio. Timing was important. Team 2 had already engaged the primary target, designed to draw their enemy's attention.

"Go."

Michael hit the trigger on his detonator, blowing open the door to the otherwise discreet office building. Without waiting, he rushed the room, flanked on both sides by his four team mates. He trusted them completely. Like Michael, they were all well trained and had rehearsed for this moment for a month. Like Michael, they were all dressed in black clothes, masks, gloves, and body armor. Each had a G style short barreled rifle with a suppressor on it, and each knew exactly what they were doing.

The five men (the oldest among them being a little under twenty) made their way through a large, open lobby to an elevator. A lone security guard rounded the corner, wide eyed, wondering what the noise had been. He, like most on Beleraphon, wouldn't know the sound of a proper explosion if it... Well, if it blew in their building's door, giving access to five would-be terrorists.

Michael took in the guard at a glance. He'd left his pulse rifle on his desk to go use the restroom. The man was probably just a working stiff. If he put up his hands or made any signs of surrender, Michael had every intention of just tying him up. They were here for intel, not destruction. Destruction was the first team's job.

The guard made a decision that cost him his life. Specifically, he rushed to his desk, snatching up his rifle (what he thought he could do against five men in full body armor with their own carbines already up and ready, Michael would ponder into his drinks for a week to come. Maybe the man had watched too many action movies as a child?). The second his hand touched metal, five bullets from silenced weapons entered his body and he slumped to the floor.

_Sorry, dude,_ Michael thought, not really meaning it.

Getting in the elevator, his best friend Dan plugged a data pad into the elevator's controls. They needed access to the basement, which was restricted. No one thought to try the guard's key cards since they were on a time crunch. Besides, they wanted their enemy to know they could just walk right through their defenses. One of the squad, Peter, stayed to watch the entrance. They expected no trouble, but weren't taking chances.

The elevator went down as Dan put away his data pad for a moment and switched back to the rifle. When the door opened the team was in a long hallway, lined with data ports and screens. It was a basic archive, but River would have noticed it as the entrance to the last Alliance facility she'd been in. A facility where Simon had rescued her. Since her last "visit" it had been converted to data storage only.

Knowledge is power. Michael and his team were here to become mighty.

Waypoint

The speeder still worked well enough to get its passengers to where they needed to be, despite making a concerning knocking sound. Victor and River had parked the speeder in the only parking garage in town. As Petaline had warned, the fees were almost as expensive as parking in a downtown garage in a Core world major city, but Victor wasn't concerned.

"Here's the plan-" Victor started as they walked down the street trying their hardest to blend in. _We're the blendiest fireman and girl-in-torn-dress ever,_ Victor thought to himself, with a perverted sense of pride.

"We're going to get money and then by me a dress," River said.

"How did you know-"

"It wasn't that hard to figure out," River said. Her eyes were drinking up as much of the city as she could, and she spoke in a distracted voice. "I'm a genius, remember?"

"What if I said we needed to get you a tuxedo?" Victor asked just to be contrary.

"Then you'd have to wear the dress."

Victor laughed.

In the bank

Victor had to check his weapons at the door. He took off his gun belt and passed it, sword and all, over the counter at the front door before going to the teller. He had other weapons on him, but knew handing his belt off was more a show of good faith. The fact that he could walk in with his weapons on in the first place made the whole ritual a little pointless.

"What can I help you with, today?" the teller asked. She was a black woman with a name tag that read "Maho."

Victor hastily scrawled the twelve digit account number he wanted to empty onto a piece of paper. "I'd like this account transferred into gold please."

The teller looked up the account. On an actual computer. Victor considered himself rugged, but being this far out in the black got old. He liked coming to the "little Core" towns like this every now and then.

"All of it?" Maho asked.

"Yes ma'am. It's a wedding present from the folks. Me and the little lady are heading to New Kashmir soon," Victor said, trying to sound like a yokel. Yokels said things like "little lady". In addition, people tended to put their best foot forward in front of rich newly weds. Victor just wished the teller were a man. Men didn't like telling pretty girls "no." If he'd had time, he would have put River's name on the account and come up with some kind of sob story.

"Well that's going to be a problem," Maho said. _Of course it is,_ Victor thought. "In order to close an account, I'll need a thumb print on this" she produced a data pad with a termination form on it "and we can close it in twenty four hours. Unfortunately, you can only draw half of your account today."

Victor had been afraid of that. "That's fine," he said, putting his thumb to plastic. "I can come back tomorrow." No sense making a fuss. That would stick in Maho's memory. His coat would probably do that anyway, but sometimes one sacrificed ambiguity to look this good.

Leaving the bank, Victor turned to River. "Where does one go to purchase clothing in a town like this?" he asked.

River gave him an incredulous look. "What makes you think I know?" she asked as they picked a direction at random and started walking.

"You're a genius," Victor said, smartly.

A clothing store wasn't too hard to find, actually. There were plenty of them around, promising the latest in frontier fashion, obviously a marketing technique designed to draw in as many soldiers as possible, most of whom were in their late teens and had never left the Core worlds. Entering the first one they found, Victor noticed signs saying things like "Get your best girl a dress she'd appreciate!" and "Bring the frontier home with you!" River was immediately interested in the "sparkly" section. Victor sat down in a chair next to a middle aged man who looked about as bored as Victor. The chairs were facing the changing rooms. Victor assumed they were here specifically so bored company could wait for their friends and family to hurry up and change already.

"So what's with the sword?" the man asked, as Victor unhooked it to sit down.

"It makes me look cool," Victor said. He was getting a bit old to pretend to be a goofy kid, but the facade came in handy at times like these. He cursed at himself for not watching his slang. Out here, people said "shiny" not "cool".

"Maybe I should get me one," the man said.

"Yeah, maybe-"

"How do I look?" River said, appearing in front of Victor. Normally, Kaylee picked her clothes for her, flowery dresses and the like. River was pretty proud of her choice.

Victor unlocked his sword with his left thumb in reflex. Rather than walk around the chair, she'd jumped over the back of it. Show off. "You look good," Victor said dumbly, looking around, confused. What the hell-

"Good?" the older gentleman said chuckling. To River he said, "You look completely amazing. Just get out of here before my wife asks for one. That thing looks expensive."

River was dressed in a solid gold mini skirt. Victor could tell the "gold" was most likely plastic, but it still looked good on her. She'd even managed to find knee high, gold biker boots to match. The boots had high heels that made her about five inches taller.

Had Victor been paying attention, he might have made an overblown remark, but something was wrong. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted what was bothering him about this situation.

The dressing rooms were positioned in front of the chairs. To do her running leap over the chair, she'd had to come from behind him. Victor spotted the remnants of River's last dress, her shorts, and her black combat boots on the floor. She'd changed clothes on the spot. Victor's eyes went wide as he considered what would have happened had someone called port security. Fortunately, no one had seemed to notice.

"You look great," Victor said hastily. "Let's just pay up and get gone. We don't want to be late."

Grabbing his sword in one hand and his crazy companion in the other, he rushed her to the cashier by the door.

"Late for what?" River wondered out loud, making Victor almost have a heart attack. This girl couldn't take a hint.

"You watch her son," the man called after them, trying to impart some worldly wisdom. "A fine girl like that, you don't take your eye offa."

"You have no idea," Victor muttered to himself.

Out on the street, sword hastily replaced his belt, Victor held River's hand and walked through the crowd. He took a second to marvel at the convenience of paved roads and side walks before slowing down. Walking shoulder to shoulder with River, he leaned over to speak. Any onlooker would see a couple of teenagers wandering about downtown, wasting time. Any onlooker would have seen exactly what Victor wanted.

"What would you have done if someone had seen you?" Victor asked, trying to keep his voice pleasant. He forced himself to breath evenly through his nose, part of meditation his old sensei had taught him. Victor wished he'd been a better student.

"What?" River asked confused. They'd left in such a hurry, she'd lost her old boots, as well as her favorite shorts. She also felt uncomfortable being this close to Victor. His mind felt weird. Like a constant, gnawing hunger at the back of her head, buzzing like a bee, barking like a dog, wanting off the leash. Control, control, maintain control. Can't keep it up, gonna' snap-

"While we're here we have to maintain a low profile, are you familiar with the concept?" Victor said. "Even though you're bounty isn't recirculated anymore, your still on the 'wanted' list, got it?"

"Got it?" River repeated bleakly as she realized what had happened. She'd messed up again. If she kept screwing up, she was going to get sent back to that place.

"Public nudity may not be the most exciting way to get busted-" as he said that, Victor thought _Maybe it is,_ but he kept his thoughts focused. "-but if the portos get called, you get hauled off. And me with you!" Actually, Victor would probably cut his losses and play it like he was turning River in. Or he'd start cutting people up. He liked to keep an open mind. "You've got to show people what they want to see."

"You're wearing a fireman's coat," River snapped, angry at being talked down to. "How's that for blending in?"

"It's bulletproof, so it's worth the risk," Victor said. "Besides, looking a little weird keeps people from taking me seriously which helps me out. Stripping naked in public accomplishes nothing but trouble."

River broke free of Victor and dashed down the back alley they were crossing. Victor followed at a sedate pace, seeing the alley was blocked off by a building. He made sure to maintain some distance between himself and Lady Kicksalot, in case she was mad at him. He felt bad. Kind of. He'd read somewhere that people didn't like to be told that they were wrong. At the time he'd wondered why. It seemed to him, finding out your wrong about something was important. He'd also been told things like "It's not _what_ you say it's _how _you say it", which he also never understood. His head was starting to hurt. Today was going to be one of those days. Also he'd suffered a mild trauma to his head recently which he wasn't bitter about at all.

River stopped long enough to kick a dumpster. When that didn't accomplish what she wanted, she kicked it again. Four more times.

"You show that can who's boss," Victor said as he got closer.

"Can you leave me alone?" River asked. She seemed... pissed. "I need a minute."

Victor nodded, even though the girl wasn't facing him. He'd needed a minute or two before, himself. He took his vial of coca extract out of his pocket and took a dose.

"That stuff's bad for you," River said as he replaced it. She turned to face him, seeming to be in control again.

"It's bad for everyone," Victor said. He'd had this conversation with more people than he cared to count. It always amazed him that people, knowing who he was and what he did for a living, seemed to care what he put in his nose.

Victor pulled cigarettes and a lighter out of another pocket. He place two cigarettes in his mouth and lit them. After replacing the cigarettes and lighter, he offered a cigarette to River.

"I don't smoke," River said, waving it off.

Victor sighed heavily, expelling a cloud of smoke. H wished he were alone. Explaining things to people bothered him. Most times, he sounded like he was talking down to people, which made them upset. Most times, he _was_ talking down to people. Which made them upset.

"Most people don't smoke," Victor said. "_I_ don't smoke. Since no one smokes, smoking will help keep people away." He tilted his head shortly to the entrance of the alley. "It goes back to what I was saying before about blending in. Anyone who looks in on us will see two people in a private conversation, smoking cigarettes, being considerate enough not to do it where it will bother people. That won't stand out, so we won't be remembered." He offered the cigarette again.

River took it this time and tried to inhale some smoke. She immediately began coughing.

"Stop that," Victor said, in a tone that made it clear he thought she was doing it on purpose.

Anger flashed across River's face. "I'm not doing it on purpose!" she snapped.

"Didn't say you were," Victor said flatly. This whole babysitter routine was getting old. After taking another drag on his cigarette, he said "When you're up to facing people again, we'll head back."

"Where?" River asked, trying to take another drag on her cigarette. She started to wonder who in their right mind would smoke on a regular basis.

"The Heart," Victor said. "I can't retrieve the rest of my gold until tomorrow, so I'll come back tomorrow." He looked pointedly at the dented dumpster next to River. "With someone who kicks less." Maybe he'd eat the cost and just hire a girl. Maybe he'd ask Jayne. Jayne seemed like a pretty "with it" fellow. Anyone who spent that much time lifting weights and drinking couldn't be all bad.

"Don't you wanna' do something?" River asked, suddenly. No trace of her previous anger remained.

"Like what?" Victor asked. What was she on about now?

"I don't know. It seems like a waste to come all this way when we've got no work to do and not do _something_ fun."

"I hate fun," Victor said, making his best "sour face".

River rolled her eyes. "Seriously? What do you do when you have nothing to do?"

Victor put out his cigarette by squeezing the ember off of the end, then chucked the filter into the dumpster. "Practice sword fighting."

"What else?" River asked.

"Exercise."

River rolled her eyes again. Apparently, her mother had never told her they would roll out of her head if she kept doing that. "What else?"

"Read training manuals."

"What else?"

Now Victor was starting to get annoyed. "Write bad poetry in a darkened room while crying about the unfairness of life."

"Really?"

"No!"

"Come on," River said, throwing her cigarette in the dumpster. She'd given up on smoking it and it had gone out. "What do you do just for fun? To relax and take a break?"

_She must not get out much,_ Victor thought, exasperated. "Drugs and alcohol?" Victor said. What was she fishing for?

River crossed her arms under her breasts with her own look of exasperation. "You are so pathetic!"

"Hey!" Victor protested. River raised an eyebrow, daring him to contradict her. After a moment of trying to think of something scathing and witty to say, he realized she was baiting him. She probably had a follow up insult waiting. "Nuh uh!" he declared.

This was going no where. "So what do _other_ people do for fun?"

Victor wasn't sure, himself. When he'd been a company man, he'd spent his vacations doing things like skydiving, skiing, and scuba diving. None of those things were exactly on the table. What did the average person do for fun? Sit around and play video games? That didn't seem right. Live theatre? "Why don't you find someone and ask them?" he said. He was starting to feel dumb, which was unusual for him. He was used to having all the answers, but had never been faced with so simple a question before.

"I'm asking you!" River said, feeling much the same as Victor. She knew Mal, Simon, Kaylee, Wash, and Zoe had always liked getting off the ship as much as possible. There had to be something interesting to do.

"Why is this so important to you?" Victor asked.

"Lover's quarrel?" a new voice asked.

Victor and River looked to the mouth of the alley. Bearing down on them were four male youths. The one who'd spoken had a face full of piercings, tanned skin, and Asiatic features. One of the others was a pale boy who looked like a sumo wrestler and stood almost as tall as Victor. The last two were the youngest of the group and obviously brothers. They had dark hair, slicked back with oil and matching dark eyes.

"You have got to be joking," Victor muttered under his breath. He knew what was going on at a glance. On some level, he could appreciate it. This alley was these punks turf. It was probably abandoned because the locals knew to stay away. By being here, especially with River dressed the way she was, they'd just volunteered to be mugged. Victor turned to face the punks, making his profile seem as large as possible. He peeled back the left half of his coat, revealing his sword. In addition to making it easier to draw, it showed the punks he was armed.

"Nice toy," Shrapnel Face said, apparently unfamiliar with what one could do with a sword. "Looks expensive." One of the brothers stepped up to River with a pocket knife and pressed it to her throat. River found the situation so absurd, she let the boy pin her to the wall of the alley. The other three punks had produced knives as well and circled Victor, picking him out as having something worth taking. "You should share with those less fortunate."

Victor wondered idly if brandishing his gut-buster would have worked better. "Gentlemen, I have an offer for you that is not to be refused!" Victor declared.

River had no problem picking up Victor's thoughts. There was only the one thing on his mind.

Once Victor was sure he had their undivided attention, he continued. The fact that they were listening said more about their resolve and motive than the knives. "You dudes leave, and I won't let my girlfriend here kick your collective asses." As far as he knew, River was worthless in a fight. He just wanted to insult his would-be muggers before he killed them all.

The punks began to laugh, as Victor had known they would. Victor waited patiently for someone to say "I do not find your offer to my liking, good sir!" or whatever today's waste of humanity was going to say. Maybe this batch would attack first or start with cuss words and insults. It made no difference.

Victor had decided he was going to take Metal Face first. Just as he was about to make up his mind on how (_Should I stab the knife through his eye socket or his skull first?_), something amazing happened.

The something amazing was River.

Author's Note: In case there's any doubt, I'm not setting up Victor/River romance. I'm deliberately pointing out what happens when two highly unusual people go out to do very usual things. Also, I've been putting in more detail, so there's twice as many words. I haven't forgotten about the Mal and Inara relationship either.

The Nietzsche quote will make more sense in part 2, but it's gonna take another couple of days.

All feedback is appreciated. What do you guys think about Victor? He's a horrible person, but is he likeable anyway?


	8. EP 8 First Date (part 2)

River grabbed her "captor's" wrist and squeezed hard. The punks had let the smallest of the group watch her, which meant they were well practiced at the time honored art of taking what wasn't theirs. One could also take it to mean they'd never learned to pick their targets with a little more wisdom.

When the punk lost his grip on the knife, River freed him of its burden and threw it into the dumpster with a loud CLANG! Victor watched, mesmerized, as the girl kept her grip on her opponent's wrist and struck. With a sense of balance that made him envious, she kicked him once in the stomach, causing him to stumble back. Maintaining her grip on him kept him from getting away. Since she had him anyway, she proceeded to kick him twice more, once in the armpit, once in a rib. The blow to the underarm almost dislocated his shoulder and the cracked ribs made it hard to breath. The "hard to breath" really takes the fight out of some folk. The punk was tough though, and didn't go down right away, so River helped him out, kicking the side of his knee, spraining it. _Then_ he decided to give up on the idea of standing and fighting. Especially the standing part.

The whole takedown took about three seconds. Victor watched over his aggressors' shoulders, grinning wider than ever. He was completely captivated, and not just because most of River's kicks afforded him the chance to look up River's too-short skirt.

The other three punks finally turned around to see what all the commotion was. They'd left their friend to deal with the little girl and their plan was to take Victor for all he was worth. A quick look behind them revealed the girl standing and their friend laying on the ground, writhing in pain.

Victor pretended he'd known this was going to happen. "Told you so," he said, smugly. "Don't make her angry. You wouldn't like her when-"

The criminals, young and pathetic as they were, didn't let Victor finish his sentence, which both Victor and River found vaguely rude. Snapping out of their stunned silence, they attacked. Tackle Box Face Man tried to stab Victor while Smally Biggs and Tweedle Dumbass went after River. Victor felt his spirits rise. He'd thought today was going to be dull. Backing toward the mouth of the alley to give River some room, he held his right hand (he was right handed) behind his back and parried his opponents ineffectual attacks. Had he seen himself, he'd have thought he looked like an old sensei giving the young punk a lesson. He didn't realize it at the time, but he started counting "One. Two. Three", in a dead language called Japanese, each number punctuating a useless attack by his opponent. On "Four!" he'd attack with a slap to the face, or a chop to the arm. His attacks served no purpose beyond showing his opponent how easily he could destroy him if he wanted. The irony was, as a child, he'd always hated it when his brother or teachers had done that to him. He kept his opponent at bay paying as little attention as he dared so he could watch River's fight.

River was poetry in motion. Using exaggerated, flowery motions, she appeared to dance around her opponents, keeping them clumsily tripping over each other like extras in a cheap martial arts play. She kept Tweedle Dee Dee Dee between herself and Mr. Smally, wearing him down with quick, light blows to the torso. He was actually a patron of Mixed Martials, the most popular fighting style in the Verse and the basis for all military and law enforcement unarmed combat. His lack of practical experience and physical fitness proved to be more than his weekly lessons could account for. When River finally got an opening, she kicked him full in the chest, sending him backwards into a narrow wall. Between his bruises, the kick, and the impact on the wall, he went down gasping. In the hospital, a doctor later told Tweedle Dee Dee Dee that, had River kicked him any harder, she probably would have killed him.

When River's first opponent went down, Victor kicked _his_ opponent's legs out from under him, just to give himself a chance to watch what happened next. He couldn't wait to see what River would do with this hulking meat mountain that she couldn't hope to over power. As his practice dummy climbed to his feet, Victor saw something that made him laugh.

Squared off against a small planet, River hesitated a moment. All her training programs had been designed for human sized/shaped opponents. When Mr. Smally saw her hesitate, he stomped forward, probably intent on belly flopping her to death like a video game character. River acted. Quickly. Decisively. With an economy of motion mere mortals can only hope to achieve!

She kicked the giant between the legs.

As he went down, River jumped and spun, giving her whole body's force to a kick to her victim's face, knocking him over backward.

_Not bad,_ Victor thought, turning his attention back to that thing he'd been doing. Metal Mouth/Eyebrows/Ears/Nose was back on his feet and trying to kill him. Jerk.

This time when Ugly tried to stab him, Victor grabbed his fore arm with both hands and spun, ripping the knife away by force. Seeing what River could do, he decided against the quick brutal death and went for something fancy.

The twist to get the knife away left him with his back to his opponent. He spun around, raising an elbow, taking the punk in the face. Being already off balance, the ringleader went down again. Victor raised his knee up to his shoulder height and in one motion, brought his boot down on a collision course with the punk's neck to snap it against the ground. He'd never practiced this move, but was feeling inspired. Pretty girls tend to bring out the best in a man, when they weren't driving him crazy. His feet stomped the pavement beside his target's head and it took his brain a moment to catch up with _why_ he hadn't stomped the life out of his vermin.

"STOP!" River had screamed, causing him to redirect his kick, mid course.

"Why?" he demanded, not taking his eyes off of Face O' Holes. The boy was twitching in fear, eyes wide and terrified. Not unlike River several hours ago. Victor found it a little pathetic. If you're going to give someone a reason to kill you, at least have the decency to die like a man and not a rabbit.

"The Captain says killing when you don't have to is bad for business," River said, running over to where Victor was standing.

Victor took a step back from his opponent, drawing his shotgun. Pointing it at his quarry's head he stated, "We don't have any business with these." He held off on shooting though. He'd been in this situation once before. The last time he'd pulled the trigger. It had gotten him suspended for a week. He was new to Serenity and didn't want to get in trouble.

"I don't want to kill them," River said.

"Then don't," Victor said, cocking both hammers back with his left hand. Couldn't she see how scared this punk was? Victor was tweaked, but torture wasn't his cup of tea. Why wouldn't she just let him kill and be done with it?

River could see she wasn't getting her point across and panicked. She grabbed Victor by the arm. "I'm a person, not a monster!" She was leaning against Victor now, holding his arm, and screaming in his face. Victor told himself his next decision was in no way related to her holding his non-shooting arm and the subsequent River-breast-to-arm-contact. His decision to show mercy definitely wasn't out of attraction to the killing machine in a girl's body.

_Oh. She's one of _those_ people,_ Victor thought. He almost pulled the trigger anyway, out of principle, but River had earned her credits. Besides... she technically had seniority over him. Maybe. Whatever.

Victor turned to Metalface Mcpisspants and spoke. "If I ever see you or your crew again, I'll kill you, your friends, your family, and eat any pets you have. Doh ma?"

Something in Victor's dead pan delivery and hungry wolf's stare must have resonated with the boy on the ground. "Doh ma!" he said quickly, sprinting off. He made it out of the alley before he even made it to the standing position. Smally Biggs drug his two companions out by the collars of their coveralls, not looking at Victor or River. Once they were out of sight, Victor reholstered and turned to River.

"You're a person, not a monster?" he asked, looking her in the eye, unblinking.

River couldn't read his thoughts for the moment. They were all over the stars. "Yes," she said, hoping it was true.

"That makes one of us." Walking to the mouth of the alley, he added, "Come on."

"Where are we going?" River asked.

"Somewhere fun."

As they left the alley behind, a thought occurred to River. "Why do you keep doing that?" she asked Victor.

"Being confused by your vague, open ended questions?" Victor asked, walking by her side. "No idea. I hope to stop any minute now."

River almost laughed at her self. She kept forgetting normal people couldn't read thoughts. Her lapses in social etiquette were almost the same as speaking louder and slower after finding out the person you're talking to doesn't speak the same language. "What I should have said was: 'Why do you keep trying to pass me off as your wife or girlfriend?'"

"Does it bother you?" Victor asked.

_No._ "Yes."

"My bad," Victor said. "It's actually pretty standard. A man and a woman, the sameish age, walking around... You need some kind of story to tell people. Pretending we're together provides a harmless cover, while making us both look spoken for. That way, you don't have to constantly reject a stream of young men that wanna' touch your boobs." Victor was actually several years older than River, but he knew he looked younger. It usually caused him problems, but sometimes came in handy when he was trying to look non-threatening.

Yes, sometimes he saw the value in not scaring people half to death before stab murdering them.

River wondered where these young men were. She'd never seen them. "Well stop it," she said to Victor. She had another thought. "What if I liked women?"

Victor shrugged, looking around. Across the street, he spotted what looked like an all-in-one bar/casino/club. The sign on the outside of the building read THE BUTTERFLY in English and Chinese, with a picture of a butterfly to really drive the point home. "You'd make a fortune selling the pictures?" he speculated, crossing the street.

River kept pace with him. There were no speeders or cars on the road, except for a taxi parked in front of the bar. "What?" she asked, not understanding what Victor was implying.

"Okay then," Victor said, stopping River outside. "You want to get your spy game on?"

River didn't know what he was talking about. "Yes...?" she said, slowly.

"If anyone asks, you work for the Heart of Gold. You're on your day off and I'm your bodyguard." Victor held the door open for River. He was interested to see how she would handle it. "Ladies first."

River smiled. This might actually be fun. With a curtsy for her escort, she led the way into the club.

Inside, the club was divided into three areas. Against the far wall was a bar. To the left of the entrance was the casino area, sporting rows of slot machines, tables and card games. Due to the lack of patrons at this hour, the only real action was a single black jack game and a single game of Texas Hold 'Em. Victor had no idea who Texas was, but he presumed the man had played a mean game of cards. Victor never went to casinos, but it felt good to see people playing real card games and not that fruit stuff everyone out here played.

To the right of the entrance was a secondary room that housed the "dance floor" and a stage. There was a billboard outside the entrance advertising live bands that would play at night. At the moment the room was expelling loud, irritating music.

"I hate dubstep," Victor muttered. He assumed the club's owner was trying too hard to make a place for Core Worlders to feel at home. Someone should explain to him that just because the music came from the core, doesn't mean one must listen to it.

"Why?" River asked.

Instead of answering, Victor asked his own question. "What do you want to do? Gamble? Drink?"

River looked around. "I don't know."

Victor sighed. "Figures." He passed River a square, gold coin. "Take this to that counter over there and they'll change it for chips. Then you can try your hand at cards. Ima' go get a drink."

River looked at the coin in her hand. "If I win, they'll give me money, right?"

Victor congratulated himself on not insulting River's complete lack of clue. "Yeah," he said, encouragingly. His smile and tone of voice were barely sarcastic at all.

"Why would they do that? Doesn't the club have to make money?" River asked, looking up at Victor.

Victor rubbed his face with his hand. His headache was starting to come back. "Just keep playing. Eventually they'll get all your money."

"So I'm trying to lose?"

Victor stomped off to the bar. He really needed a drink. "I'm sure you'll figure it out," he called back over his shoulder.

The bar had a monitor at regular intervals, so that patrons could watch different Core World programs. One would have sports, another: news, another: game shows. Victor positioned himself in front of the news broadcast and waited for the bartender to take his order.

The bartender, a hot, blond woman with stubble where most women would keep their hair, walked over. her name tag read Seana. "What'll it be?"

"Ale, please," Victor said. "In the bottle. Whichever is the most popular." It had been too long since he'd had a single, prepackaged beer. "You guys get the Core Net out here?" he asked, pointing at the television.

"Everything is about two weeks old," Seana explained. "It's all prerecorded for your entertainment."

"Well color me entertained." Seana couldn't tell if Victor was joking or not, but she smiled and laughed all the same. As he watched the old news broadcast, Victor wondered idly if that meant she liked him or if she was just being polite. He hadn't said or done anything to get her to like him (he'd just made a lazy, bad joke), but sometimes women were weird. Especially the ones who randomly decided they were attracted to men who wore firemen's coats and swords.

Victor dropped his line of reasoning on the finer points of the female psychology as he watched the monitor. It would appear someone had planted bombs in a random Blue Sun department store on Beleraphon. The news kept playing different angles of the explosion and people's reactions to what had happened. Victor watched closely, but the program had no real information about who had done it or why. They just spouted mindless speculation from a dozen different sources while replaying the same footage over and over. Victor wondered why, in a world where everything was on video, there wasn't a single piece of footage actually showing someone planting the explosives. Either whoever had done it was amazing at avoiding vid capture, or the powers that be were keeping that information close for security reasons.

"Pretty bad, huh?" Seana asked.

"Yeah," Victor said in agreement. They hadn't even taken the building out. Whoever had planted the explosives had gone with fire bombs, probably ethanol based. It caused lots of fire based damage, to be sure. It was probably going to cost Blue Sun as much in repairs as the building had cost to make. Also, Blue Sun was so big, the only insurance they could get was from the AGBS (Allied Governments Banking System), so the cost was eventually going to go back to the tax payers in one form or another. Tax payers don't generally agree with paying lots of money for a private companies repair bill, so that was going to snowball nicely. "Brilliant."

Seana, who'd been on the fence about whether Victor was good looking enough to ignore his lack of fashion sense, suddenly had to busy herself on the other side of the bar. Now if Victor wanted another drink, he'd have to ask her coworker, a burly man with arms the size of Victor's legs. His name tag read "Frank".

"Sup," Victor asked, nodding at Frank, who nodded back. His Core slang was safer here, where people got used to that kind of thing.

Victor polished off his beer and was considering another when he heard clapping from behind him. He froze. Then he said to himself, "I'm going to turn around and River is not going to be the center of attention. The cheering I heard was from something else."

Victor turned around. He was wrong. He was all the way wrong. Every word he'd said was so opposite the truth it made him a little sad inside.

"Rassah frassam!" Victor grunted, clenching the fist of his non-drinking hand. _Oh, well. No harm, no foul I guess,_ Victor thought, walking over to the Hold 'Em table. River was sitting on a stack of chips, smiling. Victor realized he'd never seen her smile before. _Really pretty,_ he thought. River looked up from what she was doing to spare another smile for him, before placing her next bet. At that moment, Victor realized he'd never asked if the "psychic" part of her training had worked.

Victor was impressed by how quickly River had gained the upper hand. She had admirers on either side of her, clapping every time she won another hand, which was every time. Her opponents looked like they were ready to give up. What Victor did next, he didn't want to do.

He walked over to River and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Lose half of your money and as quickly as you can and withdraw gracefully, your drawing too much attention." River's eyes fell slightly and Victor felt his mouth start to talk against his will. "Keep smiling. You have a beautiful smile." He stepped off from where River was playing, keeping up his bodyguard image. He shouldn't have said that. Why did he say that? He felt his face flush, whether from irritation at himself or something else, he couldn't say.

Victor went to wait over by the cash exchange counter. He quickly chugged the rest of his beer and dropped it into the nearest trash bin. Hands empty, he went to standing up as straight as he could, using his best serious face. As River finally made her way clear of the table, it occurred to him he probably shouldn't have left her alone in the first place. This chick was starting to be a real pain in his ass.

"Okay," River said, bouncing up to him she was positively beaming. Victor wondered just how much she'd won. "Now what?"

_Cash in your chips. And don't ask for your bodyguard's permission, _Victor thought.

Surprisingly (maybe not so much), River said, "Okay," before prancing over to the exchange counter.

"Unreal," Victor muttered, this time out loud.

Outside, the two started walking back to the parking garage. It was dark outside, now. They'd been out for most of the day. Victor took a single coin back from River, before handing her fistful of gold back.

"Wait, I owe you more for the dress," she said, trying to get him to take more of her money.

"That's yours, I don't want it," Victor said. It had always been his policy to pay cheesy, over-the-top compliments to girls and he hated himself for hesitating this time. "Let's just say I paid for the privilege of seeing you in a shorty skirt."

They fell into silence for a moment, but River finally spoke. "Are you upset?"

Victor was surprised. "I thought you could read my thoughts?"

"I can read everyone's thoughts. Yours just keep bouncing around," River said. "One second, your upset, the next amused, the next thinking about something else entirely. The only time you were focused was when you were fighting."

"That's normal," Victor said, frowning. Was that normal?

"Okay," River said. She'd never really stopped to think about it before.

The speeder was right where they'd left it. Right when they were about to get to the car, a wheeled, two person go-cart came... not exactly _screaming_ around the corner, heading straight for River, Victor and the speeder.

Victor saw Tiny squished into the driver's seat, threatening to spill over and shove Piercing Man, the Unheroic out onto the black top. He also saw the weapons, which were of a more immediate concern than the odd couple.

"Move," Victor said, as the put-put mobile bore down on them. When River didn't move fast enough for him, he tackled her to the ground, landing behind the nearest vehicle, covering her with his body. If they got out of this, he was going to insist most ardently that River wear armor next time they left the ship. Better yet, he'd just stop leaving the ship with this trouble magnet.

The punks didn't take the risk of getting out and letting their targets get a hand on them. They were armed with automatic weapons and simply shot the Heart of Gold speeder full of holes. They also shot the two neighboring vehicles full of holes as well, for no apparent reason. Then, the punks sped away at top speed, an earth shattering 35mph.

"That was weird," River said, in her dreamy, surprised voice as Victor scrambled off of her to inspect the vehicle. She sat up and looked around.

Victor stood in front of the vehicle, staring at it. Transmission fluid, oil, and what might have been battery acid was leaking out of it like blood from a dying man. Victor was perfectly still, his face neutral, but River could feel his anger building. Slowly at first, then rushing in a torrent. River placed her hands to her ears, trying to block out a sound that wasn't there. When that didn't work, she slid herself backwards to increase the distance between herself and Victor, scratching her bare legs.

_Her fault. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault!_

Victor's whole body seemed to be vibrating now, as his face twisted into an animalistic rage. His fists clenched shut uncontrollably. He knew better. He'd always known better. This was his _own_ stupid fault for listening to the girl. There was a loud, booming noise as he slammed both of his fists down on the hood of what used to be a vehicle. River jumped at the sound, unable to cope with the amount of emotion she was feeling from Victor's head. She felt like her skin was going to crawl off of her body. It felt like she was going to explode from the inside out. There was a loud screeching in her head that sounded, at the same time, like a rushing waterfall except it was the loudest thing she'd ever heard.

Victor was standing over her now. River hadn't even seen him move. Her eyes had probably been closed. River recoiled back, feeling his rage like a wave of heat, washing off of him. Her back was pressed up against another vehicle of some kind, but she kept pressing back, trying to increase the distance.

Victor got himself under what could tenuously be called control. Glaring at River, he spoke in a low growl, choosing his words carefully. It wouldn't do to start screaming and swearing. "That... Is why I kill."

River's hands reached for her throat, to make sure her head was still attached. She'd felt Victor's sword go slicing through it, but realized in the back of her mind that she was losing track of what was real and what was happening in Victor's head. Her vision going dark around the edges, she had time to say one word before blacking out. "Monster."

Victor had a lifetime of experience dealing with stressful situations. He also had the benefit of his brain having only been mildly tampered with once before, at his own discretion. Strangely, his own anger had less of an impact on himself than it did on River.

"Well...fuck," he said, standing over the unconscious girl. He kept forgetting she wasn't quite all right upstairs. In his defense, River was absent any "Don't become suddenly angry at me or I will pass out" warning signs.

River was still breathing evenly, which was a good sign, he supposed. It was too late to hire someone to transport them back to the Heart of Gold. There's no way a mechanic shop would be open after dark, either. Victor turned back to the speeder. Mechanic shop... what a joke. That thing was dead.

Victor hoisted River up. He considered carrying her cradle style. Strong as he was, his arms would get tired eventually, and he didn't know how far a walk it was to the nearest hotel. He opted instead to carry her like a child, chest-to-chest, with her arms over his shoulders. Placing one hand on either of her hips, he was able to carry her as far as he cared to walk. Heading out of the garage, he realized her skirt was going to ride up high enough to be embarrassing, had she been awake. Telling himself he didn't care and it served her right, he pulled her skirt down anyway. There was no point making things worse. He did that enough already.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

I didn't realize how long this was going to take, but I didn't want to leave anything out and have to smash it in later.

Also, the American West Coast surfer slang is short hand for a delinquent on the Core Worlds. I did that on purpose, but I couldn't tell if it was obvious enough. Speaking of obvious, I really hope you fine people enjoyed the irony of the coked up psycho giving lessons on how to be "normal". That was my favorite part.

All feedback is appreciated, you guys are helping me out a lot.


	9. EP 9 The New Mrs Reynolds

Mal finally made his arrangements with Petaline and rounded up his crew. Well... all but one.

"River hasn't come back yet," Simon was saying. Mal, Inara, and Simon were outside the Heart of Gold. The sun was gone and light was fading fast.

"She's a big girl, she can take care of herself," Mal said.

"What if something happened?" Simon asked. He was stunned. Mal couldn't seriously be talking about leaving her.

"She's got transportation and knows where we are. If she's not back by tomorrow, we'll go find her." Mal said from his place in front of the door. "Are you coming or not?"

Simon crossed his arms over his chest. Mal thought he couldn't look more stubborn. "I'm not leaving," he said defiantly.

Mal considered for a second. Simon seemed serious. "Suit yourself," he said, finally. "I'm sure she'll be back any minute now."

"Are you sure we shouldn't go looking for her?" Inara asked as they left the Heart (and Simon) behind.

"Between her and the ninja pirate, there ain't hardly a point," Mal said, as they got to the shuttle. He opened the hatch and let Inara in. "There's nothig we can do that they can't do their own selves. Besides, I really think they're fine."

Inara was busying herself with starting her shuttle. "Do you think they'll be back soon?"

"Nope," Mal said, leaning against the bulkhead. "I hope Petaline charges that stubborn doctor room and board for the night."

Mal realized he was alone for the first time with Inara since last night. He rotated the lounge chair behind the cockpit and took a seat. "So... about last night..."

Inara smiled slightly to herself. "What about it?"

"Are you embarrassed by me?" Mal asked.

_That_ surprised Inara. Mal never ceased to confuse her, which was fairly difficult given that she was an expert in all matters relating to men. "What?" she asked, upset with her self for losing her composure and sounding (to her ears) dumb.

"You're ashamed of me," Mal said. "That's why you've been avoiding me."

Inara took a moment to sort out what Mal said in her own mind. She'd never been trained on what a Puritanical view of sex would do to a person, psychologically, so she was in unknown waters. "So in your head, I had sex with you, but _now_ I'm ashamed?"

"Is that the way of it?" Mal asked. He preferred his answers in the "yes" and "no" variety. He wasn't going to let Inara talk her way out of a straight answer. This was too important.

"No, Mal!" Inara said, exasperated.

"Then why have you been avoiding me all day?"

"We just spent the whole day together!" Inara protested.

"Correction," Mal interjected. "I just spent the whole day following Miss Petaline around, writing down a list of supplies as long as my arm while you were off God knows where."

Inara was truly lost now. What had he expected her to do? They'd had feelings for each other for close to three years now. Why would finally laying together mean she had to change her behavior? "What are we talking about?"

"Us," Mal said, simply.

"Obviously," Inara said, rolling her eyes.

Mal sighed and slouched lower in his seat. "I don't take a woman to my bed I ain't got feelings for. That ain't me."

Inara knew that and wasn't sure why Mal felt the need to say it. Also, she resisted the urge to point out that Mal hadn't taken her anywhere. She'd come to his bed of her own free will. Not only that, _she'd_ come to_ him_ because she knew it would make Mal more comfortable than the other way around.

"And you can't just use me because your out of the job. That ain't right, either."

Mal was an expert at trying her patience. Inara resisted the urge to slap Mal silly. Barely. It was hard. She took a breath and tried a different tact. "Do you know how I used to pick my clients?"

Mal really didn't like thinking about that, but he played along. Inara never could just come right out and say what was on her mind. "No," he finally answered. "I just assumed you pick the youngest, richest, best looking men in the Verse." Mal was fully aware he was none of those things. On second thought, he might have barely qualified as "good looking", but he wasn't the lean, clean, and refined pretty that Inara used to go for. Plus he was twenty years older.

"Greatness."

Now Mal was confused, so he listened closely, which was Inara's plan.

"The largest portion of my client base was young men, inexperienced in life and love. The one thing most of them had in common was their desire to be something _more_. They had that spark of greatness, waiting to be fanned to a flame. I liked being that fan, as much as I could."

Mal had never heard Inara talk about her work like this before. He'd given up on his initial assessment of Inara being an over priced whore long ago, but he was starting to realize her job had actually _meant_ something to her. Being a Companion had given her a clearly defined, valuable place in society. Having all that ripped away, largely due to Mal's own actions, couldn't be easy, but here she was. "I can appreciate that," Mal said. He fell silent for a second. "Hold on a tick...what's all that got to do with us?"

"You have that same mark of greatness," Inara said. "A normal man couldn't do half of what I've seen you do."

Mal and Inara had been dancing around each other for years. He'd never heard her say anything so complimentary before. "You really think that? You don't think I'm just some washed up, petty crook?"

"You're closer to David at this point, set to kill the giant," Inara said.

That sounded shiny, but Mal didn't feel anywhere near up to the honor. "You're a Buddhist."

"I also received an education," Inara said, smiling. "I know the story of King David."

"That's quite the pedestal you got me on," Mal said. "You sure I can measure up?"

"Let's just say I'm choosing to believe in you," Iara answered.

"You know they do say 'Behind every great man-'"

"I'll stand at your side," Inara interrupted, "but I'm not taking a back seat to you. Don't worry. I think I can keep you in line without being in your shadow, though."

Mal smirked. "You'd be the first." He lapsed into silence and for a moment there was only the sounds of the shuttle's engines. "What about that Matherton fellow?"

"Atherton?" Inara asked. "What about him."

"He didn't seem so great."

"Well he _did_ invite me to all the best parties," Inara said laughing.

Mal surprised himself by laughing along. Then he asked, "So why _were_ you avoiding me all day?"

Inara sighed deeply and rolled her eyes. "You're a very private person, Mal."

Mal wasn't sure if that was her answer or if she was trying to make another point. "Yeah, so?"

"So do you have some deep desire for me to tell Jayne and the others about last night?" She looked over her shoulder to catch Mal's reaction.

"Why would I-"

"I'm sure Kaylee would be happy for us. Jayne might even buy you a congratulatory drink."

"That's not why I was asking. I don't need everyone to know my business. The things I do ain't for other people to gossip about."

"Are you sure?" Inara asked, docking her shuttle. "We could put a bed in the cargo bay and consummate our new relationship to the cheers of all the crew."

Mal visibly recoiled in horror at the idea. "What? Eww, gross! That's the worst idea ever." His head cocked to the side as he had a thought. "Is that something you've done before?"

Inara sighed and looked back over her shoulder again. "No, Mal. I'm just teasing you."

Mal just grunted. "Well I guess we should let the others know we're back. Jayne's probably chomping at the bit to get gone right about now." The shuttle was coming up on Serenity's location.

As soon as Mal and Inara exited the shuttle, the cargo bay door opened and Jayne sped off into the night in the hauler, waving without looking back. Kaylee and Zoe were standing on the catwalk to stay out of the "squish zone". Kaylee had Snow in her arms who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"What is he, Bugs Bunny?" Mal said in disbelief. He was surprised Jayne hadn't left a trail of fire in his wake.

"How did it go, sir?" Zoe asked.

"We're gonna' have to wave Monty," Mal said. His old friend, in addition to being a great smuggler, fronted a legitimate shipping company and had a dozen ships at his disposal. "We've got more work than we can handle ourselves. It seems Mrs. Petaline's gonna' build herself a proper city."

"Where's Simon?" Kaylee asked, putting the puppy down. "What happened?"

"Don't you go worryin' yourself," Mal said, in a reassuring voice. "He just got himself caught up in waiting for his sister."

Kaylee crossed her arms and fixed Mal with a disapproving look. "He's waiting on River?"

"Yeah," Mal nodded.

"At a whore house?" Kaylee asked. Mal was no expert on women, but Kaylee seemed less than pleased.

"Yeah."

Kaylee turned and stalked off.

"What'd you say?" Mal asked Zoe, only half serious. It was vaguely possible Zoe had something to do with Kaylee's sudden shift in mood.

"I don't know, sir," Zoe said. "I'll have to go apologize for telling Kaylee her boyfriend decided to spend the night at a whore house."

"It happens to the best of us," Mal said, sagely. "She shouldn't be _too_ hard on you."

Mal started snickering, unable to keep a straight face. Zoe even joined in.

"Both of you, stop," Inara said, stepping between them. Poking Mal in the chest she said, "You: shower and get ready for bed. I'll go talk to Kaylee." As she walked off, she considered that if felt nice to be able to expect someone else to meet _her_ needs for a change.

Zoe and Mal watched Inara leave, graceful and dignified as always. Once she was safely out of earshot, Zoe turned to Mal.

"What's _that_ all about?" Zoe asked.

"What?" Mal asked. His face was the perfect mask of innocence.

Zoe just raised her eyebrow slightly. She'd been working with Mal too long to fall for his shenanigans.

"Oh, right," Mal said as though he'd just remembered something. "Inara and I are sleeping together now."

Zoe took a step back and grabbed onto the catwalk's hand rail. "Excuse me?"

Mal realized she would need more of an explanation. He was very intuitive. "Well, really it was just last night, but if I have anything to say about it, we'll continue for the foreseeable future." There. That explained everything. The cat was out of the bag and it was hardly as painful or awkward as it could have been.

Zoe scanned Mal's face for any sign he was playing a prank on her. When he didn't follow up with a punch line, she said, "God help me, I think you're serious."

"I'm overwhelmed by your outpouring of happiness and moral support," Mal said, dryly. Apparently this _was_ going to be painful.

"What are you thinking?" Zoe demanded.

"Excuse me... are you the pot or the kettle in this situation? Cause I seem to recall saying a thing or two about you marrying a certain dashing young pilot."

"You said it was a bad idea," Zoe said. It still hurt to talk about Wash, but she kept speaking. "You said it would cause complications that could threaten our business. I'm glad I didn't listen, but it seems a little out of character for you."

"In case you hadn't noticed, our business has kind of changed," Mal said, waving an arm at the cargo bay which was still full of products that needed to be fenced. "We making a transition from 'staying alive' to 'fighting back'. It hurt when Book and Wash died. God knows how bad it would hurt if something happened to Inara, but I'm done making myself lonely and miserable for no gain." Mal walked off without saying another word. He was not used to expressing this much emotion.

Zoe watched him go, amazed. He sounded so much like the old Sargent, for a moment she'd been back in the trenches. Even though Mal couldn't hear, Zoe spoke. "I'll follow your lead, then."

.

Deep inside a maximum security prison a pale, red headed woman sat at a blank table in an empty room. There was only one other chair in the room. The guard who brought her here had taken her handcuffs off, which she knew wasn't normal. She took that to mean someone important wanted to talk with her.

The woman appeared to be between twenty and thirty, but she'd spent countless credits on maintaining her looks. No part of her body was both natural and unaltered. She'd never been a believer in traditional plastic surgery, so every one of her enhancements had been the result of gene manipulation, making her beauty as permanent as possible. Her beautiful hair grew in "naturally", but was the result of a genome enhancement to make it look as good as possible. She never needed to wear makeup, which was also the result of gene therapy. Even if she lived to be one hundred and fifty, she'd never get wrinkles or look old. Even her above average breast size was accomplished by a combination of hormone treatments and gene therapy. Nano machines in her bloodstream constantly prevented any of her procedures from "correcting" themselves. In short, she was a million credit woman and a monument to beautiful appearance.

She knew it, too. She'd made her career out of using her body to get what she wanted out of men and leaving them high and dry. Her acting skills, combined with her looks, could have easily made her rich in their own right, but that would have spoiled her fun.

Her VIP finally walked in. He was an Asian man and would have been handsome had he not been so fat. The red haired woman never understood why people would let themselves look like that. Even if he didn't want to watch what he ate, he could obviously afforded to have his metabolism altered. She'd heard somewhere that body fat, from an evolutionary standpoint, was a sign of wealth and standing. She thought the idea a load of gossen. The stylishly thin Mandarin beard and expensive clothes marked him as rich, but what really caught the woman's eye was his necklace.

On his neck was a gold chain with a shield. The shield was the Parliamentary Seal. This man was a member of Parliament.

_Now what could he possibly want with me?_ the woman asked herself. Her best guess was that it involved taking her to bed, but a member of Parliament could have any woman he wanted. That couldn't be it.

"Good evening, madam," the man said, sitting down without introducing himself. The woman assumed he was under the impression she would know who he was, but she'd been out of the normal run of things for a while. The man placed a folder on the table. "I'm sorry about the late hour, but I've spent nearly the entire day putting this in order. You'd think someone of my standing would have an easier time, but the Verse runs on paperwork."

"What can I do for you?" the woman asked.

"Do you recognize this man?" he asked, opening the folder. The picture in the front of the file was of a square jawed man with medium brown hair wearing a brown coat. The man was standing in a hanger with his fists on his hips looking up at an old firefly class space transport in obvious approval. The picture seemed to have been extracted and modified from a security camera. Any member of Serenity's crew would have recognized the location as the hangar on Miranda they'd had haul the ship to for repairs.

"I've seen him once or twice," the woman said.

"I've had your felony theft charges suspended from the Core Net," the man said simply. "When I leave here, you're leaving with me. I'll set you up with any supplies you think you need, your choice of a ship, and a considerable sum of money in credits, gold, and cash for whatever planet you think you'll need money on. Then, I'll send you on your merry way. You'll find Mr. Reynolds and wave his location. After that, you'll be a free woman with a clean record. Deviate from the plan and your charges will be reinstated along with the theft of the ship, cash, and supplies you take with you. You will be found guilty of breaking out of prison, as well. Then, you'll spend the next twenty years in solitary confinement at a more...specialized prison."

The woman considered how to answer for a moment. This was too big. This was not how Parliament got things done. In the grand scheme of things, releasing a petty thief to catch another one seemed redundant. The only charge her ex-husband's lawyers had gotten to stick was grand theft. She'd be out in eight years at the most. She had her own lawyers as well. Realistically she was looking at four years and probation. Did she really want to risk it? "What's Parliament's interest in Mr. Reynolds?" she asked, not expecting an answer.

"He's the face of a growing insurgency," the man said. "Terrorist cells are popping up in Core worlds left and right. He's bad for business and undermines the voter's confidence in Parliament. Once you give us his location, we'll send our best extraction agent to bring him back." The man gave nothing away with his face. The red haired woman thought to herself he'd be fun to mark.

"What if someone else finds him before me?" she asked. "There's no way your putting all your eggs in my basket."

"Then we thank you for trying and let you go free anyway."

"You've really thought this out, haven't you?" the woman asked. She knew the value in negotiating came from de-valuing the other party's offer. It was becoming rapidly apparent that she was being sold to and not the other way around. "What if I said I want to be a good little girl and serve my debt to society so I can leave here with my head held high?"

"You don't," the man said. "I've read your psych profile." He took a sheet of paper out of the folder and slid it to the woman. She didn't have to check to know it was a copy of the prison's psychologist report, but she played along. "The choice between staying in an all women's correctional facility or going back to what you do best isn't really a choice is it? Even with the risk."

This man had it in one shot. "You're good," she said. "The first thing I'm going to need is a new ID."

"I can have it for you tomorrow Miss-"

"Reynolds," the woman interrupted. "Saffron Reynolds."


	10. EP 10 Good Morning, Sunshine

Michael and Dan shared a dorm in the most prestigious Hebrew university on Beleraphon. The whole campus was suspended on a floating metal plate above the galaxy's largest ocean, sharing the skyline with other floating islands for miles in every direction. They were both studying to become lawyers, hoping to one day make their way into politics. Any who knew them knew also how passionate they were about the state of the Alliance these days.

Michael and Dan had both done a genetic study in their high school. That was actually the first time they'd gotten to know each other. They looked a lot alike despite sharing no family relation: both had naturally tan skin, deep features, and dark hair. Their gene analysis, when compared with historical archives, had confirmed they were both descended from a place called Israel on Earth That Was. Michael had already known that about his family. His grandfather had told him so, but being able to just look it up like a page in a book was a nice experience as well.

So it came to be Michael's grandfather had given him a present. A pointlessly powerful pistol called a Desert Eagle that fired half inch wide projectiles. Many members of his family over the years had served in Space or Terran forces, and his grandfather had won many private firearms competitions when Michael was a boy, before handguns were demonized by the authorities and carrying them became completely illegal. Still, the old Eagle was a family heirloom. Michael's grandfather had claimed it had been in his family since something called World War 2. Being an intellectual, Michael had tried to confirm this fact. As best Michael could tell, the firearm had been manufactured some fifty years later, and had been in his family for over five centuries. Nothing about it was original anymore except the barrel, slide, and frame. Still, it was a work of art, heavily chromed with every square inch sporting Hebrew writing. It belonged in a museum.

In complete violation of campus policy, Michael had the pistol under his pillow as he slept. It had been a gift on his sixteenth birthday, and he couldn't have left it behind for college had he wanted to. He knew sleeping with a weapon under your pillow was paranoid, the purview of people who lived in the lawless Rim planets, but the previous night had been a little busy.

It was morning and the sun wasn't up yet when Michael heard a clicking sound come from his doorknob. Dan was asleep across the room and snoring softly. Telling himself he was being paranoid and the stress of his night job was getting to him, Michael established a grip on the Desert Eagle anyway.

The clicking sound had been exactly what Michael was afraid of. Someone was checking his door to see if it was open. The door blew in with a booming sound

_So that's what this looks like from the other side._

and four armed men tried to storm into the cramped dorm room.

Michael knew he was dead as he opened fire, questioning the decisions he'd made that led to this. He never considered giving up, despite not fully understanding what was happening. It was possible his parents' lawyers could have gotten him out of jail time. Had someone simply knocked on the door and asked him to come quietly he most likely would have done so, but all things happen for a reason.

The first slug tore through the skull and helmet of the point man (actually a woman) and through some twist of chance, or ballistics, kept flying. The bullet continued on through the heart of the man behind her, putting them both down with the sound of a single gunshot. The entry team hadn't expected Michael to be armed (Who would?). Michael kept firing, one handed. The short distance and surprise more than made up for the horrible position he was in. The next six bullets tore into his two attackers, three to a man, and they fell as Michael's weapon ran dry.

Had anyone cared to time the spectacle that day, they would have found it took less than a second from the door caving in to the weapon running out of ammo.

"Wha' happennin?" Dan asked, startled awake. It would have looked comic under less deadly circumstances.

Michael climbed his way out of bed and began ripping on his clothes, denim pants and a Chinese cut shirt in blue. "We have to run!"

"Exercise?" Dan asked. He still didn't know what was happening. "Now?" Then he noticed the bodies piled in front of the door. "That's not good," he said, dumbly.

"Move!"

Michael and Dan dressed quickly and grabbed their bug out bags, both wishing they'd done a better job of preparing them. They'd never really thought they'd need to run like this, but preparation kept them out of jail that day. As they ran away, Michael tried to make sense of what had happened. His attackers had no back up. That meant they were bounty hunters. The sound of the gunshots were likely to bring the Feds soon, but in the ten minute window, Michael and Dan would be gone. Checking the bodies quickly before leaving revealed they were wearing thin, light body armor designed to stop handgun bullets. Michael swore from that point on, he'd never complain about the weight of his pistol again. Had he been firing a smaller caliber, only the point man would have gone down.

Dan armed himself with one of the pulse rifles on the floor, and Michael felt a pang of guilt at seeing the non-lethal weapon as he and Dan made their way out of the dormitory. The entry team had planned to take him alive and mostly unhurt.

No one else in the dorm so much as looked out into the hallway. People from the Core knew better than to move toward the sound of gunshots.

"Hey, Mike," Dan said once they'd exited the building. A thought had just occurred to him.

"What?"

"Finals start next week. We were just about to graduate and be done with this place forever."

.

Victor was doing push ups, rising and falling as fast as he could make himself while keeping his body straight. When he couldn't do that anymore, he rolled over to do sit ups. When he couldn't do those anymore, he stood. He waited two minutes by the count of the room's clock, then started over.

He was shirtless, his coat, shirt, and belt on the room's table. River was asleep or unconscious on the invitingly large bed. Victor had considered undressing her, but couldn't bring himself to do more than take off her boots. She didn't seem the type to take kindly to waking up in strange hotels naked, so she could ruin her dress. Besides, taking advantage of a disturbed girl, even with a legitimate excuse, was wrong. Victor kept repeating that fact to himself.

Victor was on his fifth set and considering stopping when River finally came to. Her eyes opened and she looked up. Seeing a tall, shirtless man standing over her, she reacted exactly how Victor had assumed she would. Some small part of him was pleased to know that, as strange as River was, in some ways she was still just a girl.

River wrapped one arm over her chest and places her opposing hand over her lap, sitting up.

"Don't worry," Victor said, snickering. "I didn't do any sex stuff to you." He managed not to laugh outright. Proudly declaring innocence of sexual molestation does little to instill confidence.

River relaxed slightly and looked around. "What happened?" Looking back up at Victor she added. "Where's your clothes?"

"I'm trying to get a work out. I'd be clean and asleep right now if I didn't have to keep checking to make sure you didn't stop breathing," Victor said. "Just be glad I'm wearing pants. A delicate lady such as yourself would be unable to... ah...something, something penis joke." Victor gave up on making a joke and continued, "We're in a hotel. The speeder's dead, remember?"

River did remember. She also remembered Victor's anger, burning out of control. He seemed to be fine now, but...

"What happened to you?" River asked, looking at Victor's chest.

"Those are called nipples. Even boys have them," Victor said, looking down at himself. "But 'why?', I have no idea."

"That's not what I mean," River said. Something was...different. She stood and walked over to Victor, poking him in the chest with her finger. Then, she poked him in the stomach. And she kept poking him at various points on his torso.

"If this is foreplay, you suck at it," Victor said, not sure what her fascination was with his body. He had the heavy, fat slabs of muscle one would expect of a circus strong man, mixed with a little extra flab from what he was starting to refer to as his "drunken pirate phase". He in no way resembled an underwear model, as he had always thought pretty little girls liked.

"You have more muscle than you did in the infirmary."

"I've been working out," Victor said as if it were the most obvious thing in the Verse. "Like... a lot."

"Muscle doesn't grow that fast," River said, mimicking his smart assed tone of voice. "Even if you have been lifting with Jayne."

"I had a thing done," Victor said waving off whatever River was getting at.

"Gene therapy?"

"Yes ma'am," Victor said. Elective procedures weren't entirely unheard of. "I had a 'muscular degeneration reversal' and a 'neuro-synaptic enhancement'. Cost me quite a bit. Actually the second one kind of wears off after a decade or so."

"Why?" River asked frowning. "It costs a lot of money, right?"

"Six and a half hundred thousand creds," Victor said proudly.

That made little sense. "You spent the price of a nice house so you could have muscles and faster reflexes?" River asked, incredulous. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Victor asked, his voice dropping two octaves.

"What?"

He placed a hand at the small of River's back and pulled her close. "How else could I have such shirtless moments with women in random hotels?"

"You reek," River said, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She pushed him away and took a step back. "And your not getting out of answering me. No one pays that much just to look pretty."

"You really think I'm pretty?" Victor asked, fixing River with his cheesiest of cheesy grins.

"You make jokes constantly," River said, looking him dead in the eye. For a moment, Victor could actually feel her looking into his head, searching for an answer. "Because you don't want to talk about things that are important."

"That's pretty cliche," Victor said. He dropped back to the floor and started doing push ups. "You're smarter than that."

"Your dodging the question."

"You've been spending too much time with the Companion," Victor said as his push ups slowed. "You're not my girlfriend. Or therapist. You have _zero_ need to know my business." Finishing up, he hopped back up, standing as straight as he could. He figured River was beyond such petty shows of intimidation as "looming" but it didn't hurt to try. "You'll get nightmares."

River met his wolf's stare. She focused as hard as she could to keep from being caught up in his thoughts. She could feel that he wanted to hurt her, and not physically, either. He was tempted to answer her questions honestly. The only thing stopping him was his notion that making mentally unbalanced people worse was beneath him. The buzzing bees and the barking dogs were kept at bay by the dam of control and the floodgates were closed, but the hands were tired from holding the chain. "What happened?" River asked. She tried to copy Victor's fatalist nonchalance, but couldn't. She was scared. She knew her own psyche was frayed around the edges, and wasn't sure what another bad memory would do to her. Especially one that even a coked up killer wouldn't allow himself to think of. Unfortunately River was smart. "Smart" usually leads to "curious". There's a cat somewhere that can attest to the value of not giving into one's curiosity.

"I left my company about six months ago," Victor said, staring, unblinking, into River's eyes. He wasn't psychic, but he was fairly good at reading people. River wondered if this strange mixture of fear and curiosity she felt was what other people felt when they looked at _her_. "To get married and go freelance, so I could take jobs that allowed me to spend time at home with the little lady."

The bees were buzzing louder than ever. River blinked first and looked away. "It didn't work out," River said, drawing the faintest outlines of the story from Victor's mind.

"To say the least," Victor said, closing the memories off from his (and by extension, River's) mind. "She's gone and it's my fault... but to answer your question, the money was supposed to buy us a house."

Victor lay down and started doing sit ups as River sat down on the bed. One last set, then he hit the shower and went to bed, stuffing his shotgun under his pillow. River stayed up the rest of the night, telling herself she didn't want to spy on the man's dreams but doing it anyway.

.

Victor had taken over the bed. He'd climbed in, clad only in his underwear and offered to share the blanket with River. River turned up her nose at such an offer. Truth be told, very few ladies fell to Victor's particular brand of humorous sexuality, so he wasn't surprised at all. Later, he reflected on the fact that River didn't seem to sleep anymore that night, in the bed or on the floor.

He woke to River practicing with his sword, which was too long for her. Despite this, she managed run through several basic katas with ease.

"I had a thought," Victor said, watching her move as he climbed out of bed and pulled his shirt back on.

"Another genitalia related quip?" River asked, seeming less than interested.

"No," Victor said. "I just thought it's kind of sick that someone would do to you what was done to you when there are guys like me running around the Verse. Also, why genius upper class kids? Why not orphans? Or criminals? Or volunteers? People would volunteer for a super spy program."

"I share your assessment," River said. Practicing, studying, flying, and dancing all had a way of calming her down and letting her focus more easily. It was easier to talk about the bad things when she was distracted. "It was all experimental. Had the process been perfected, the combat applications would have been unlimited." She returned the sword to sheathe and the sheathe to the small table. "Your weapon is off."

"What do you mean?" Victor asked. He'd designed it himself and hired a blacksmith on Aeries to build it for him. His eyes narrowed. "You didn't break it did you?"

"It's too long."

"Oh, that," Victor said, belting up. Normally swords stretched from ankle to hip. On Victor's sword, the blade alone stretched from ankle to hip and the pommel was three hands long instead of two. A round, brass knob perched at the end of the pommel, serving as a counter weight and a bludgeon. "What's your point?"

"And your shotgun..." River continued, handing Victor his sword, balanced on the palms of her hand.

"What's your point?" Victor asked again, replacing his sword to sheathe.

"It's an eight gauge right?" she asked. "No one carries those."

"Your not just gonna' tell me what your getting at, are you?" Victor asked, sighing.

"You're compensating."

Victor laughed. A little. "Nice." Victor got the impression River was a little out of practice at making jokes. It's not as easy as he made it look.

"Thank you."

.

The rest of the adventure went off with only the smallest of hitches. Victor loaded down a few more pockets with more gold at the bank and got directions to the nearest motor shop.

"Why are we going to a motor shop?" River asked.

"To get a vehicle," Victor had answered.

"What about the speeder?"

"Petaline's gonna get a towing bill tomorrow. I'll leave her enough money to cover it," Victor replied.

"I think that would be a major inconvenience," River said. She wasn't referring to the bill either. Lying to the authorities was something she'd come to terms with on Serenity, but it was usually the territory of close friends and family members.

"Haven't you hear the golden rule?"

"'He who has the gold, makes the rule'?" River asked, lifting what he'd been going to say from his mind.

"Yup."

They found the shop easily enough. A lot of the soldiers that came through and had more elaborate tastes than "drink" and "whores" rented from the same place. Victor proceeded to buy a vehicle in gold, on the spot.

"It has wheels," River said, blankly. "Why does it have wheels?" They were standing in the lot, staring at a two wheeled vehicle powered by a micro reactor. Aside from not using fossil fuel or electric batteries to power it, the vehicle was in most respects a good old fashioned motorcycle.

"So it can move from one place to the other," Victor said.

"Why not get one that hovers?"

Victor sighed. Some people had no respect for the classics. "This one is cheap, quiet, and easy to maintain. I can take it with us on the ship and it won't take up much room."

"What if it falls over?" River asked as Victor climbed on.

"Are you for real?" Victor demanded, a little annoyed.

"Sometimes," River said in her "dreamy" voice.

Victor patted the seat to the motorcycle behind him. "Get on. It'll be fun. Don't worry, chicks like motorcycles."

.

While River found Victor relegating her entire gender to "chicks" and insisting that everyone without a Y chromosome would react the same way to a motorcycle ride offensive, he'd been correct. Tearing across the sandy plain on the way back to the Heart of Gold as fast as the bike could go was one of the more exciting experiences of her life. At one point, the bike almost went over as Victor swerved to miss a particularly large rock and River asked why he didn't slow down. He'd said the trip was going to take too long as it was, but she could read his mind. At the end of the day, he was having as much fun as River.

Victor didn't slow down as the bike tore down the tiny street of Gold City, telling himself people need some excitement and that justified the risk of running people over. He even managed to power slide the motorcycle to a stop outside the Heart, despite the weight of an additional passenger.

"So what did you think?" he asked River, grinning his stupid grin.

"It was okay," River said in the most bored voice she could manage.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Simon's voice demanded as Victor set the kick stand and River got off the bike. Simon strode out of the Heart. Victor and River both noticed offhandedly that he looked angry. Really angry.

As Victor dismounted he looked at Simon, then turned his whole body to look pointedly at the Heart of Gold. He looked back at Simon. "Did you spend the night here? You have the coolest girlfriend in the world!"

"What happened?" Simon demanded.

"No, seriously dude, marry that chick," Victor was still saying. "Like... yesterday."

Simon turned his back on the rambling idiot and asked River in as calm a voice he could manage, "What happened?"

River thought about it for a second. In a voice best suited for reading from a textbook, she said "Well... first we were married in the bank, but when we left I was his girlfriend for a fight, and after I won I was a whore while I won all the money in the casino, but when the car got shot full of holes, we were in the hotel and nobody did any 'sex stuff'." Looking down at herself, she added "I got a shiny new dress!"

Victor and Simon listened to what could potentially called a story, wide eyed and amazed. Simon was unable to process what he was being told. Victor, on the other hand, thought it was the most beautiful example of storytelling since... ever. For a moment, he wasn't sure if River's version of events was actually how she remembered it or if she was just giving her brother the business and he didn't care. It was awesome.

Simon slowly turned to Victor, hoping he could shed some light on the situation. Victor surprised himself by keeping his face neutral despite ever urge to laugh hysterically. He was a professional after all, and everyone knows you don't contradict your coworkers story. It's bad manners.

"What she said," he told Simon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I know there's not a lot going on here, but I had to force out some more details. Hopefully I did it in an entertaining way. I'm an anime fan and I normally like to drop random details (River only sleeps 4 hours a night, gene therapy, why is there a Desert Eagle, etc.) in on the fly, but all three-and-a-half of my fans say back story should come BEFORE front story to avoid confusion. I was going to have Michael and Dan show up later and tell a short version of why they had to run, but instead... face shooting.

As always, I love the feed back. Thanks for reading.


	11. EP 11 Church

_months ago..._

Agent Prince, a tall, lean man with spiky blond hair, had broken into the facility just fine. He was on some awful little company planet. One big, evil corporation had hired him to steal production information from a smaller, eviler-er corporation that ran this horrible planetoid. Since the moon was technically outside of civilized authority, he'd been killing his way through an entire office building.

His fe fe pi goh excuse for coworkers had tried to kill him. Again. His intel on this place said to expect minimal resistance from building security and he'd walked right into an ambush. He'd started killing with his rifle and ran out of ammo by the time he made it to the top floor. Having been in a bit of a "mood", he'd beaten someone to death with the empty rifle, mangling it to uselessness. He'd taken several bullets in his Ghenji style trek to the CEO's office, but only the one that had grazed the outside of his shoulder was bleeding and it was just a flesh wound. He silently praised himself for thinking to put on full body armor, and not just the thin, light stuff he always wore. If he survived this, he swore he would go freelance. He was going to take his fiance, Nadine Sue Yang, and move to a border planet. He'd always heard Persephone was nice.

Rounding a corner in a hallway, the agent saw a dozen armed men, all holding him at gunpoint screaming "Freeze!" in both English and Chinese. The blood spattered man smiled to himself, a terrifying apparition to his would-be captors. He was smiling about something else though. In an old Earth That Was movie, a different man with a sword had said "It's just a flesh wound!" while hopping up and down on one foot, having also been relieved of both of his (literal) arms. Funny...right?

The agent took in the situation instantly, a product of a lifetime of training. These men must have been ordered to take him alive, but they were pointing actual rifles at him, not pulsers. They were scared of him, but not quite scared enough to flee in terror. He always thought he should give his enemies more gruesome deaths to discourage this type of behavior, but his old sensei, Hiro, had trained him too well. Hiro had always gone on and on about dignity and honor. Part of that included quick, clean deaths for one's "worthy" opponents. The agent had paid attention as much as he could, but he'd always been more interested in learning the sword than learning about a long dead Japanese religion called Bushido.

The agent considered his options for dealing with his new friends. He could let them take him in to their leader, which would actually make his job easier. He'd discarded his own rifle some time ago and now only had a polymer pistol on his hip and the sword on his back. It was the short, straight wakizashi. He also swore to himself he'd start carrying his "big boy" sword off ship on jobs after this.

So, the man could have let the dozen goons live, like a smoker who claims he can "quit anytime I want". Instead, he felt a flash of gratitude these men had brought him a collection of rifles and (more importantly) ammunition. His sword flashed out of the scabbard. His opponents were wearing body armor specifically designed to stop bullets that did little to help with the sword. After the mission was over Victor was most irate at how difficult it was to sharpen the blade, though. The sword flew through arms and necks, and punctured chests, stomachs, and skulls. Victor mowed down the men so quickly the last one was dead before the first one hit the ground. They all collapsed at the same time, as though they were dogs who'd just received an order to "play dead".

Victor took a second to admire his handiwork. He always said that one must stop and enjoy the little things every once and a while. At least, he would have had it ever come up in conversation. Either way, it was important to relax and enjoy life a little bit. It was the only thing that had kept him sane for so long.

Standing over his conquest Victor spoke out loud, even though no one was around to hear him. He had no idea who Julius Oppenheimer was and he'd never read the Gita. Reciting what he assumed to be a line from a movie, he declared in a low growl, "Now, I am become death! The destroyer of worlds!"

Sometimes you just have to make your own fun.

_then and now..._

Mal stood in front of Inara's full body mirror, practicing his draw with his favorite pistol. He'd been lightning fast since he was fifteen and put the old shooters that worked for his mom to shame at every shooting contest the ranch had thrown. Two motions made the pistol seem to teleport from the holster to his hand. First, apply mostly rearward pressure to the grip of the pistol. Once the pistol started sliding, grab and point. Simple really, but even the best needed practice.

"Are you having fun?" Inara asked from the bed. She'd been watching him do this for the past fifteen minutes. The novelty of seeing her man naked except for his leather belt had worn off. It was starting to get boring.

"Not liking the view?" Mal asked, wiggling his bottom a little. "Bwah!" he said, drawing yet again. His hand was getting tired and slowing down.

"It's just lovely," Inara said, rolling her eyes. Despite herself, she smiled. She liked seeing Mal relaxed and comfortable for a change.

"Alright, then," he said, done practicing. He walked over to the bed. "Tomorrow, we touch down on New Corona for the meet with Monty. He's in good with the locals there so that means honest-to-goodness shore leave."

"Won't that be fun?" Inara asked, sarcastically.

"If we can convince everyone to get off the ship, we can have the whole ship to ourselves."

"Maybe we could play naked tag?" Inara asked, reaching up and giving "little Mal" a shake.

"Maybe we could just have lots of sex until we pass out?" Mal asked.

Inara rolled her eyes again. This time Mal could see it. "You have no imagination."

Mal was perplexed. "Huh?" What would one need to "imagine" about sex? That was time and energy one could spend actually _having_ sex.

"You'll see," Inara smiled.

.

Zoe climbed from her bunk, intent on obtaining coffee. Her ears heard the sound of explosions and swearing from multiple voices coming from the bridge. Panicking, she hit the hall communicator and broadcast to every room. "Captain, we have an emergency on the bridge!"

Zoe sprinted the few feet to the bridge as hard as she could. Entering the cock pit, she saw what appeared to be an epic space battle going on in the view port to the ship. Explosions and loud noises swamped her senses. Then, she realized Jayne and Victor were already on the bridge floor, and in _front_ of the control consoles, no less. Simon and River were just sitting and watching the "battle" unfold.

"You cheating whore!" Victor shouted.

"Don't pitch a fit cause I beat you at your own stupid game!" Jayne retorted, laughing with glee.

"A video game?" Zoe asked Simon and River, figuring out what she was looking at. The HUD on bridges main view port was split down the middle and what appeared to be two star fighters were locked in a dog fight with each other.

"I got the winner," River said, grinning.

Simon rubbed his face. "They've been at this all night."

"What's going..." Mal's voice asked as he bustled into the bridge. His brown shirt was untucked, his suspenders absent, and his pistol belt in his hand. His hair was in disarray, suggesting he'd just sprang from his bed.

"My mistake sir," Zoe said by way of apology. "Your Public Relations officer and pirate ninja have the situation well in hand."

"You rigged up a vid game on my boat?" Mal demanded of Victor after he passed his controller off to River.

"Yeah and Jayne's been kicking my ass up one side and down the other all night," Victor replied. He looked around. "Aren't Fireflies supposed to have couches in the entertainment area?"

Zoe suppressed a laugh and turned her head.

Mal fixed Victor with a stunned look. "Are you outside your mind?"

"What?" Now Victor was confused. "If you hate video games, you don't have to play, but the bridge has all the entertainment hardware. Or do you just have a problem with fun?"

Zoe stepped out of the bridge, now laughing in full.

"Excuse me?" Mal asked, fixing his belt to his waist.

"I mean..." Victor scanned his brain. A lot of his former coworkers had been veterans. Between them and his brother, he'd picked up the culture. "Seeing as how team building and ship morale is so important, I thought I'd do my part and donate some software to the cause." By the time he finished his spiel, he was standing up perfectly straight and speaking in a clear and bold voice.

"GET SOME!" Jayne shouted, to a cacophony of explosions. River stomped her combat boot to the ground and growled in frustration, not used to losing at something.

"If this gets in the way of work, I'm ripping it out," Mal said grumpily, leaving in search of coffee.

Victor watched Mal leave then turned to Simon. "It's software. He knows he can just delete it, right?"

Simon just shrugged.

.

Later that day, the crew crammed into the bridge area. River was in the pilot's seat with Zoe standing behind her. Mal was in the copilot's seat, with Inara standing behind him. Jayne and Victor had gotten hold of two bean bag style chairs and had them on the floor in front of either console. Snow was laying flat on the floor in between them, pretending to be a rug. Simon and Kaylee were hovering in the doorway.

"Anybody here ever been to New Corona?" Mal asked, as River started the landing sequence.

No one was surprised when Victor raised his hand.

"You want to give everyone the debriefing, then?" Mal asked.

"Heck no."

"Do it anyway."

"Okeydoke," Victor said. He cleared his throat. "New Corona is a border planet closer to the Rim than the Core. Aside from some light tourism for surfing, it's mostly an agricultural planet. The majority of the galaxy's oranges, lemons, and bananas are grown there, as well as the best tobacco... ever. The eastern sea is great for surfing, but the western sea has the Agave Islands which (as everyone knows) is where one hundred percent of all of the agave in the Verse is grown-"

"What's agave?" Jayne interrupted.

"I'm glad you asked, good sir!" Victor continued, without missing a beat. Mal started to wonder if he'd missed his calling when he didn't become a tour guide. "Agave is an amazing plant used to make an even amazinger-er drink. Tequila!"

When no one reacted to the good news, Victor decided to help out by making trumpet noises with his mouth. Two notes repeated in sets, three times, then...stop. When Victor stopped, River joined in and said "Tequila!" Still, no one was impressed.

"You people are out of touch with your cultural heritage!" Victor said, crossing his arms and legs in disapproval.

"So is tequila like moonshine?" Jayne asked.

"Blasphemy!" Victor spat. "Tequila is the hot girl that moonshine wishes it could one day become in a horrible teenage romantic comedy!"

"Speaking of culture," Mal interjected, "the whole planet is run by Dons and we don't want to make waves so watch your manners."

"Who's Dons?" Jayne asked.

"No, it's like..." Mal began, "Like a commercialized feudal system. The Dons are the highest ranking members of 'families' who get voted in for life sentences when their predecessors die. The Families are the people who call the shots to their respective industries/districts."

"So the Don of the agave islands would be Don Agave Ramosa. Ramosa being the man's family name," Victor added. "If you act up on one of the islands and one of the donsmen report you, he'd be the one to cut your testicles off." After a second's thought he added. "Metaphorically speaking... usually."

"Sounds more like a mob," Jayne said.

"The only difference between a mob and a government is popular support," Mal said. "On New Corona, the Dons' words are law, so we behave."

Jayne raised his hand even though no one else was speaking and began speaking before his hand was all the way up. "So do they-"

"Yes, you're allowed to wear your guns on New Corona," Mal said, cutting him off.

"Thank God," Jayne said, relieved. Every time he left the ship without his usual compliment of pistol, knife, and grenades, something bad happened.

"We're about to start our landing sequence, Captain," River announced.

"Take 'er away," Mal said. "We've already got clearance in a town that won't ask questions."

River dropped into atmo perfectly, flying by instruments due to the heavy cloud cover. It was monsoon season in the district they were landing in, which was good. That meant there would be no Core tourists. River landed Serenity as Mal kept talking.

"Zoe, you want in on this one?" Mal asked. In her condition, he was less inclined to bring her into an unknown environment.

"Between Jayne and the giant, I think you'll have enough muscle," Zoe answered. She had already been feeling the effects of her pregnancy. "I'll watch Serenity."

"Can I come, too Captain?" River asked.

"Sorry, girl, but this place is too heavily populated. If we need to get gone in a hurry, we need you on the ship." Serenity landed and Mal stood. "Jayne and Victor have to come. The doc, Zoe, and River are staying in case things go south. Kaylee, want in?"

"There will be Mexican food," Victor droned, enticingly.

"What's that?" Kaylee asked.

"It's like really good food, but better," Victor said, grinning his hungry grin.

"Actually," Simon said in a lower voice, "I was thinking we could spend some time together."

Kaylee crossed her arms and moved a few inches away from Simon. "I'm sorry... did you just say we should spend some more time together?" Kaylee was making no attempt to keep _her_ voice low.

Simon sensed that he was in trouble again for some reason. "I..."

"Because I seem to recall _someone_ (not saying any names) would rather spend the whole night at a whore house than with his girlfriend."

Mal, as a dignified Captain, kept his face blank. Most of his crew took his example and looked appropriately embarrassed to have to witness a domestic dispute. Jayne and Victor were giggling like small children, however.

"Alright, it's settled then," Mal said, when Simon's stuttering response became too painful to endure anymore. "Me, Jayne, Victor, and Kaylee: planet side. Everyone else: hold down the fort."

Simon didn't know what he was supposed to do, but he was fairly certain he was going to be wrong either way, so he didn't object. Of course, Kaylee was none too happy about his apparent desire to spend yet another night away from her.

.

Mal led his entourage away from the hangar to the easiest to access public gathering point, where Monty knew to meet up with him: an old fashioned, Mexican style, Catholic church. Heading inside, Mal dipped his fingers in the water bowl and crossed himself. Even he was surprised. It would seem old habits die _really_ hard.

Victor held Jayne back by the shoulder as Mal made his way to the front of the sanctuary. "Wait," he whispered. Victor believed in a singular higher power (at least, he _thought_ he did), but found organized religion to be a waste of time. Even so...

"What are we waiting for?" Jayne whispered back, taking his hat off. He'd left his favorite hat on Serenity (it was a little warm for wool) and was wearing an olive drab green floopy hat.

Victor just shrugged. He was acting on instinct. He took a seat on the back pew and picked up Snow, placing him on the seat next to him. He'd only had the dog a couple of weeks, but he was pushing forty pounds, despite being still a puppy. He hoped no one took exception to a dog in a church.

Mal and Kaylee slowly made their way up the rows of pews to the crucifix and candles. At this time of day, the only other person in attendance was a priest sitting on a pew, unobtrusive but available, should any need him. Kaylee had grown up protestant, and a lot of this was new to her, so she took a seat on the front row.

Mal, however, figured if he was in for a dime, he was in for the dollar. It had been years since he'd prayed. Deep down, he'd always been comforted by hearing what Sheppard Book had to drone on about faith in God, even if he knew his own faith was way too broken. Taking a knee on the short bench in front of the candles, he looked up at the crucifix. It was what he'd always considered the "graphic" version. Instead of a simple cross, he was staring at a white, alabaster statue that showed Jesus nailed up, bleeding and in obvious pain.

Jayne and Victor still stood next to the door. Jayne whispered angrily at Victor, "You expect us to just sit here while the Captain prays?" he demanded.

Victor sighed. He liked Jayne. If Victor were less of a freak, he would consider Jayne to be his new best friend, but sometimes... "That man tells us what to do. _I_ want him to be as 'at peace' with whatever God he believes in as possible. Doh ma?"

Jayne grumbled something that might have been an agreement. His mom had taught him proper manners as well.

Up front, Mal wasn't praying. He was reflecting on the Sheppard and how a man of God could have suffered such a cruel fate; dead at the hands of someone who'd been after a friend of his. It didn't seem right. It didn't seem right, because it wasn't right.

In his own head, Mal said to the statue _You hear that? I'm done with you. Just don't say I never gave you the chance to explain your own side of this mess._

Feeling better, he kept going. _I mean, it never mattered, did it? No matter how much faith I had, or how hard I fought, the Independents were always going to lose weren't they? Faith has nothing on superior numbers._

The statue, unsurprisingly, said nothing. Mal's thoughts wandered to the deaths of Sheppard Book and Wash.

_Granted, it wasn't the worst way they could have gone out. I've seen enough death in my time to figger that out my own self._

Jesus said nothing, but this time... Mal felt that the statue was just letting him speak his piece, once and for all. He knew that feeling was just his own imagination and wishful thinking, though.

_I mean, Wash died flying, like any spacer would want. His piloting is the only reason the rest of us lived. Even Book went down preaching the value of faith... but for what?!_

Jesus let Mal continue his internal rant.

_ You never did anything to help, did you?! Well, guess what? I'm done caring what your think! You wouldn't help me win, so I'll win my damn self! If you're all powerful, I've got half a mind the only reason you don't appear to people no more is 'cause you don't want the ass beatins you got comin!_

Something strange happened. For just an instant, Mal thought the statue moved. For the barest second, the face of pain and suffering was... smirking. For as long as he lived, Mal would only ever tell Inara about the time he thought the statue changed. He knew it hadn't really happened.

What happened next was strange though. Mal didn't hold with psychology the way Inara, Simon, and Victor did. Weren't no point in pondering the ways of a man's thinking. Only thing that matters is what a man _does_. Even so, Mal had to wonder why his next thoughts weren't of his fallen friend, his betrayal at the hands of God, or anything at all related to his disappointment and rage.

He remembered... a story. A simple story his Ma had told him that he'd later read himself.

.

Once, a man named Jacob was on his way home to meet his brother, who wanted him dead. At one point on the journey, Jacob and his family needed to cross a river. Jacob sent his whole family and all his belongings and servants over without him, though. That way he could spend the night alone.

See, at that time, a man as rich and powerful as he would never be allowed to just spend the night alone in the wilderness. Too many people depended on him. Still, Jacob did it. In the middle of the night, he was attacked by a stranger who wrestled with him for hours, until the sun started to come up.

The stranger realized how long the two had been fighting and demanded to be released. Jacob realized the man was more than he appeared to be and demanded to be blessed, first. The stranger agreed, but he was a sore loser and decided to poke Jacob in the hip, so he had to walk with a limp for the rest of his life.

Long story short, Jacob didn't get killed by his brother after all and went on to found on of the most powerful and influential nations on Earth That Was.

.

"You're smiling."

Mal came back to himself and looked over his shoulder at Kaylee, who'd spoken. "No I'm not," he said, his face blank.

"Yes you were," Kaylee said, her own face smiling.

"Kaylee, soldiers don't smile," Mal said in his most patient and understanding tone. "Unless of course it's at a mission well done or over the bodies of our fallen enemies." He stood and went to sit next to her. "Wouldn't be proper, just smilin' for no reason."

"My mistake, Captain," Kaylee said, leaning over to kiss Mal's cheek. "I'll have Simon check my eyes."

"You do that," Mal said. "We can't go havin' a mechanic who can't see what's what."

The doors to the church opened up, admitting a large man with a bushy beard. The last time Mal had seen Monty, he'd been going bald on top. He seemed to have given up on having hair on his head altogether. His head was completely shaved now, making him look even more intimidating. On his left he was flanked by a tall, lean man with dark skin. On his right, a pale man with red hair and freckles.

"Well if isn't Bigfoot himself!" Mal said, getting up and walking over to Monty.

Monty grabbed Mal up in his traditional bear hug, lifting the smaller man off the ground in the process. Setting him back down he said. "How you been you crazy pirate?"

"Better," Mal said, surprising himself by meaning it.

"Yeah I heard about your little party out on the edge," he smiled. "You're a bona fide hero now."

"Well... I'm alright," Mal said, looking around. The priest had left, but he wanted to keep an eye on what he said. "Let's just keep this 'hero' stuff between us, yeah?"

"Oh," Monty said, remembering his manners. He pointed a thumb at the black man on his right. "This is William, the other one is Theodore."

Mal waved and said "Hello."

"Yeah, I had to go out and get myself some honest-to-goodness bodyguards," Monty said.

Mal knew Monty had a legitimate shipping business in the name of an associate from the Core. It made being a full time smuggler that much easier. However, Mal had no idea his business was _that_ good. "Shi Ma?"

"Oh, yeah," Monty went on. "I got ten ships running round the clock and twice that number on the up-and-up side of things."

"That's impressive," Mal said. "Maybe you shouldn't be doing small time business with me if you're already riding so high up on the food chain!"

Monty scoffed. "Oh, please. Smuggling is the spice of life. I don't run a little contraband myself, I'm apt to go stir crazy."

"And take the rest of the Verse with you," Mal said, laughing at Monty's oldest joke.

"Ahem." Victor had walked up while the two were talking.

"Right," Mal said. "Monty, this is our newest recruit, Victor."

Victor shook Monty's hand. "It's nice to meet someone else who comes in 'grown-up' size for a change."

"Likewise," Monty said.

"And I think you already met Kaylee and Jayne," Mal said of the other two people who were taking up the church.

"Hey, kids!" Monty said. "Kaylee, you still work for this bum?"

"What can I say?" Kaylee said, smiling. "I'm just a one ship kinda girl."

"You know you can still come work for me anytime, right? I gotta' whole fleet needs your skills," Monty said, only half joking.

"Hey, now!" Mal said, pulling Kaylee in front of him and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, as if to keep her from escaping. "Don't go trying to steal my mechanic."

The rest of the meet went pleasantly. Mal made arrangements to have supplies dropped at a remote location on the nameless moon where The Heart of Gold was located. Serenity would be responsible for storage and final transportation at Petaline's convenience, taking the smallest cut of the profits. Which was fair, considering they would be doing the least work. Besides, Mal had a war to start, which has a way of consuming one's time.

.

After parting ways with Monty, Mal and his crew made their way to a nearby Mexican restaurant. They sat outside under the cloudy sky and marveled at the chance to just eat at a restaurant like normal, boring folks. Victor had Snow sitting beside his chair. The waitresses (mostly young, pretty Hispanic girls) let it slide, given that they were outside and Snow was adorable. It may have also had something to do with Victor flashing his gold.

The waitress came up to the table. "Hello, what can we make for you today?" she asked in heavily accented English.

"Tendremos una botella de su mejor tequila y una ronda de puros. Puedo hablar a Español Si lo prefieres," Mal said. The waitress giggled, saying "Si" and went off to (presumably) fill the order.

"What was that?" Kaylee asked. Both she and Jayne were wide eyed and surprised. Victor had understood "botella de tequila", which was the important part, so he was fine with whatever else Mal had just done.

"What was what?" Mal asked.

"You ain't never said nothin 'bout speakin' Spanish before," Jayne said. "And don't you say it's cause-"

"You never asked," Mal finished for him. He looked back and forth between Kaylee and Jayne. Were they really surprised? "Look, my mother was a cattle baroness. Who do you think bought most of our beef?"

"The Dons," Victor said. When everyone looked at him, he took his hand down quickly, drawing attention to the fact that he'd been picking his nose.

"Exactly," Mal said, ignoring Victor's lapse in table manners. "So I learned the language. It's not that complicated."

Kaylee smiled. "Well ain't you just full of surprises?"

Mal shrugged and grunted. Lot's of people speak different languages.

The waitress returned with a platter holding a bottle of tequila, four precut cigars, an ashtray, and taco chips. Jayne immediately went to work on the taco chips.

"We're gonna' need more of those," Victor told the waitress. "And enchiladas!" The waitress smiled and nodded.

"It looks like a storm's coming," Mal said, taking in the overcast sky.

"Fine by me," Kaylee said, eating chips and salsa. "I can't remember the last time I seen rain."

The four enjoyed a nice, relaxed dinner. Tequila was a rare treat. Even on Core worlds, import and export taxes kept the price around 125cr, which was ridiculous for a bottle of liquor. The four of them finished their dinner, drinks, and cigars (except Kaylee, who gave hers to Jayne) before the trouble started.

.

A small woman in a long, black Mandarin style dress walked down the street of the quiet little town. She had a black, silk cowl wrapped around her head, specifically designed to keep her face from view of anyone not standing in front of her while not drawing attention to the fact her face was covered. An onlooker would assume it to be an off world fashion statement. In her right hand, she held a sensor. Not an electronic one, either. A long chain that looped around her wrist and went most of the way to the ground. At the end of the chain was a small, metal box with vents all around. The box was designed to hold incense, which one would light. Then, the carrier could swing it all around, spreading the incense over a wide area.

Once the woman in black found a suitably crowded square, some three blocks from her targets, she lit the sensor and began swinging it, spreading a fine mist. Several people nearby stopped to watch, thinking she may be some kind of street side performer. Most just went about their day. The decision to stay out of range saved some of their lives that day.

Some. Not "all".

The crowd began to grow. The watchers in front were blocking foot traffic in the area, which caused more people to be curious, which caused more people to stop and watch, and so on and so forth. The woman in black waved the sensor in wider arcs, spinning it all around. The sensor continued to trail smoke, making fancy patterns in the air. Right about the time the audience started to grow bored with the simple trick. Something happened. They started to feel sick. All of them at the same time. Everyone withing range began doubling over and vomiting. Then, they began convulsing. People who weren't in range began to back away, slowly, but stayed close out of simple, human curiosity. The woman in black was now standing over a congregation of convulsing, sick people. She still waved her sensor, despite the smoke going out. She was singing an old hymn in Chinese, waiting for the change.

A man close to her feet reached out and grabbed her by a high heeled leather boot. "What did you do to us?" he demanded.

"Oh, don't worry," the woman replied in a beautiful, musical voice. "You won't mind as soon as the discomfort fades."

It wasn't long before the people fell unconscious. The onlookers began to scramble. Some went to get the donsmen, some left in fear of their own safety, some looked like they were thinking of harming the woman. Ultimately it didn't matter. The crowd laying on the ground unconscious began to stir.

Not all of them, of course. This new strain of the Pax was designed to _not_ accidentally turn people into Reavers. It was designed to turn as many people as possible into them. The woman in black was pleased with the results. The people turned were consistent with all laboratory tests. 90% of men and 10% of women were susceptible to Reaving. She'd once asked a scientist about the gender disparity. He'd given her a very intelligent sounding answer about part of the transformation process increasing testosterone and adrenaline. It had something to do with muscle mass and size keeping the excessive hormones from causing nervous or organ shut down. Fascinating.

The woman in black stretched her mind out in a blanket over her new followers. "Hello my children," she said.

The Reavers roared in acknowledgement, sounding similar to fans in a sports stadium. Coming from the angry, red eyes of once human monsters, the sound was less exciting and more terrifying.

"I plan to hunt tonight," the woman continued once the cheering had died down. "Who's with me?"

The new Reavers roared again. Louder this time with the promise of death and bloodshed.

The Reaver Queen relaxed. Now the fun would begin.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I swore up and down I'd include the fight in this chapter, but I'm too pressed for time. I had to scrap what was going to be this chapter and write "Church" instead, to keep things actually happening. I was falling into the trap of having people just sit around and talk about things instead of actually doing them.

I hope noone's upset about Mal getting in touch with his spiritual side again. It was a strong part of the character and I couldn't justify leaving it out for fear of offending anyone. Also, Firefly is a Space Western. Western's have a lot of Mexico in them, so of course I always intended to have something about Space Mexico and the Space Mexicans. Everything just kind of tied itself together.

I love feedback, it keeps me working. I'll also be starting a forum thread soon so we can all recommend fanfiction stories and authors to each other. Trying to find good stuff to read is a bit too hard. The filters on this sight don't have a setting for "author's writing ability" and it gets old sifting through ten stories written by horny middle school students to find ONE that's entertaining.


	12. EP 12 Fire and Blood

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I have no idea how long "The Adventures on Space Mexico" are going to be. I had a handful of ideas I wanted to put to story, and it may be two more chapters. Enjoy.

Zoe and Simon were playing a game of Tall Card in the dining/lounge area. At first, neither understood what the sound they heard was. After the split second of initial confusion, they realized River was screaming. They'd heard her scream before, but never like this. River usually screamed like a scared little girl, panicking and gibbering about whatever she felt that her teammates couldn't. This was one, long, continuous shriek. River sounded like she was screaming herself to death. Simon remembered almost being burned at the stake for witchcraft with River once. He'd never wondered, but now knew, what his baby sister would have sounded like had the fire been lit.

River's scream led Zoe and Simon into the cargo bay, where River was standing in the middle of the floor and seemed to be swatting invisible flies out of the air. Wild swings with either hand set her hair and flower dress to flapping. Recoiling from something, River fell backwards, finally stopping her scream. Instead of falling directly onto her backside, she turned her fall into a roll out of reflex. She completed her roll with her hands and knees down, staring blankly at the floor, gasping to catch her breath.

"River!" Simon shouted, appearing at her side. "What's happening? What do you see?"

"There all gonna die," River said in a haunted far away voice. Snapping out of her funk, she looked Simon in the eye and said, "Everyone's going to burn!" She looked terrified. Simon felt a chill run down his spine as he heard the note of hopelessness in River's voice.

"What do you-" Simon started. He didn't get to finish. River jumped up from the floor and took off, not listening.

Zoe and Simon looked at each other momentarily before following suit and running after River.

River's head start and adrenaline caused her to leave them behind in short order. She headed straight for Jayne's bunk. Ripping the blanket off of the wall over his bed, she took stock of his armory. She was going to need a lot of bullets.

"River, honey, what are you doing?" Zoe gasped as River climbed back out of Jayne's quarters.

Zoe and Simon both stood speechless at what they saw. River was wearing a utility belt with the only G style handgun in Jayne's arsenal hanging from her right leg. The belt was loaded down with several rifle magazines and a pair of butterfly swords in a large, leather pouch on her left hip. In her arms, she held a mini-14 with an abnormally large drum magazine holding one hundred rounds. Almost as an afterthought, a backpack was slung on her shoulders. She should have looked like a child putting on her parent's clothes, but the scared/determined look in her face stopped that illusion short.

"So... we should gear up?" Zoe asked, trying to guess what River was up to. Either she just strapped as much firepower as she could to her small frame, or she really thought she was going to _need_ all of it.

"Now," River said. Time was short.

.

Mal, comfortably full of the best food and drink in the Verse, was the first to notice something was wrong. "What's with the mutt?" he asked Victor.

"Snow?" Victor asked, looking under the table, where the large puppy was hiding. "I don't know." His ears looked like they were trying to lay flat, but kept swiveling out. "I think he hears something he don't like."

"We should think about leaving, anyways," Kaylee said. "I'm sure the others want time off the ship, too, now that the meet was successful." She noticed the men at the table were all tensing up. Mal, Jayne, and Victor were sitting perfectly still, trying to hear whatever it was that was bothering the puppy.

"Sumpin's not right," Jayne told Kaylee. "It's like-"

"It's too quiet," Victor finished. "It's barely sundown and were in a busy town. It should be noisy. We should be hearing music and voices in the background."

A faint scream could be heard in the distance, startling even the normal patrons of the restaurant.

"Not _those_ kinds of voices," Victor said in an exasperated voice. "Horrified screaming is _hardly_ step in the right direc-"

"Shut up," Mal said in a low, flat voice. Something bad was happening. He just didn't know what. He had no desire to put up with Victor's mouth right now.

"Shutting up, sir," Victor said without finishing his thought.

Mal put a small, gold coin on the table alongside the two Victor had already placed. He hadn't been sure if Victor was trying to pay for everything or he'd been trying to impress the pretty waitress, but he wasn't about to let a member of his crew pay for his meal. "Let's go see what's what."

Jayne looked back and forth across the restaurant. From their position outside, he could see through the windows. The inside of the building was packed. Not a single person looked like they knew what was happening. No one was panicked, but even the vague sense of unease in this many people, most of whom were the locals, was a bad sign. "You want to head _towards_ whatever's going on?" he asked. "We don't need to go sticking our nose in the locals' business. I say we git while the gittin's good. It's not like the folks here can't take care of themselves."

As they left the restaurant, Victor spoke in a low whisper, so as not to draw attention to his violation of the Captain's last order. "Where's your sense of adventure?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear. "There could be a hanging going on!"

Jayne liked Victor. The man lifted weights, fought, and drank like a champion. Sometimes, however, he could be just as freaky as the reader girl. "Exactly!" he snapped. "I don't wanna get caught up innit. Five necks hang just as easy as one or two."

The four people and the dog made their way into the street, a hard packed dirt road. There was no foot traffic. Mal stood directly in the center of the street, Kaylee standing too close with Jayne and Victor automatically fanning out a little. Mal looked to his left and his right. On the right, a short man with tan skin, dark hair, and dark eyes came around the corner of a building.

"Hey, there!" Mal called, glad to see someone was still around. "Do you know what's going on?"

The man turned at the sound of Mal's voice and started walking towards him.

"Hablas Ingeles?" Mal asked. After that got no reaction, "Habla en _absoluto_?"

The man had closed half the distance and started sprinting right at Mal. His face was fixed into a snarl. Growling wordlessly, he lunged with both hands at Mal's throat. Mal was already on edge and didn't hesitate. He stepped into the attacker with a chop to the neck, effectively clothes-lining the man. His opponent went backwards, heels over head, slamming the back of his head on the ground. The blow knocked him unconscious. At least Mal _thought_ he was unconscious.

"What are you two doing?" Mal asked after he turned around. Jayne had his pistol with the large, round front sight post out and was pointing it, one handed, at the man on the ground. Victor had his sword out above his head with both hands on the hilt, ready to bring it slamming down.

Jayne and Victor both looked at each other. Looking back at Mal, they said in unison, "What?"

"I think the Cap got 'em," Kaylee said, dryly. Both men lowered their weapons, but neither reholstered.

"Is that a Reaver?" Jayne demanded. Something about the wordless snarl and attack had triggered his memories, but the man on the ground didn't look like a Reaver. His flesh was unmarked, but...

"What is it with you and Reavers?" Victor asked in what was almost a scoff. He'd never run into them in his career as a company man, but he'd met plenty of people who had and lived to tell the tale. If a Reaver encounter was survivable, what's the big deal? Victor knelt next to the unconscious man. "He's still alive," he said, placing his hand on the man's belly. He was breathing deeply. He checked the man's eyes. "His eyes are red. Ruptured blood vessels."

"Was that my doin?" Mal asked.

"No," Victor said. He paused. "Maybe? I dunno. Sometimes vessels rupture. It's a thing."

"Thanks for clearin' that up," Jayne said, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Dammit, man, I'm a swordfighter, not a doctor!"

Mal, Jayne, Zoe, and even Snow looked at Victor quizzically.

"Nothing. Nothing. I get nothing!" Victor said, stomping his foot in disbelief. "Forget you guys."

"Uh, guys," Kaylee said, looking up the street. "I think we should go."

About twenty more men were walking toward them with blank faces. Seeing Mal and the others, their aimless wandering shifted to a determined march, then an all out sprint, just like their friend.

"Run," Mal said, drawing and fanning the hammer on the Dragon with blinding speed. Five of the new Reavers went down before almost instantly. "Run!" he shouted.

"Too late," Victor said as the rest bore down on them. He stepped into the fray, drawing the bulk of the attention to himself. His sword flashed out, every strike bringing a new target down. Mal and Jayne fanned out to either side and shot down as many as they could. All told, it only took a few seconds to get them all.

"Well this is just great," Jayne growled. "The town watch comes along, they're gonna think we killed a bunch of people for no reason."

"They just kept attacking," Victor said, looking at the bodies on the ground. "They didn't even think to give up or try a little strategy." He frowned at the scene, like a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. "Weird. What were they trying to accomplish?"

"Move!" Mal snapped as a new wave started up the street. This time, there were better than fifty Reavers. Instead of meandering slowly at first, they were screaming in rage and running straight at Mal and the others. Kaylee was frozen in fear, not moving until Mal grabbed her by the shoulder of her coveralls and dragged her the first several feet. Jayne and Victor brought up the rear, occasionally turning to put down the fastest runners.

"Hey," Victor said, grinning, trying to get Jayne's attention after a lull in the attackers.

"What?!" Jayne demanded. He found Victor's good spirits in the face of getting eaten a little irritating, to say the least.

"At least it's not raining," Victor said.

As if on cue, the clouds that had been building up finally gave way to heavy rain, all at once. Victor buttoned the top three buttons on his firemen's coat, leaving the bottom half open so he could get to his weapon's sheathe.

"Ni ta ma de," Jayne replied bitterly.

This was going to be a long night.

.

The town was in flames. River, Zoe, and Simon were greeted to the smell of smoke and the screams of the dying. Inara had been elected to stay behind by virtue of not getting ready to leave fast enough.

Leaving the docking bay area and heading deeper into town, River's stomach turned at the sight of a fresh, red eyed Reaver hunched over a woman, ripping her intestines out with his teeth. River put stock to shoulder and fired, sending the Reaver's brains splattering out into the street.

"That was a Reaver, wasn't it?" Zoe asked. "What are they doing this far in-"

"They're new," River said. "_She_ made them."

"Who?" Simon asked, confused. He had a backpack style med kit on his back and small submachine gun in his hands. Jayne had given him basic drills on Serenity and he'd fired live rounds on few occasions, but he was still lamenting his lack of practice right now.

"The Reaver Queen," River said, eyes haunted as the three kept walking.

"Her parents made a terrible choice," Simon said, trying in vain to lighten the mood. He was referring to the somewhat unusual name, of course.

"The same mistake ours did," River said, not referring to the same thing.

River did her best to navigate the maze of adobe buildings without encountering more Reavers. It didn't work. Their queen could sense her and kept sending larger and larger waves at her. River didn't mind shooting Reavers. Their violent urges and blind hate burned against her mind. Killing them made the feeling go away. At one turn in the road, River, Zoe, and Simon came face-to-face with a large group. They were getting smarter. This batch had found weapons. The Reavers seemed just as partial to carrying a bludgeon, blade, or firearm. If anything, random items like wrenches and pipes were _favored_. They were easy to find and didn't detract from time spent killing.

River opened fire. She wasn't sure what caliber bullet her rifle fired, but Jayne had picked it for knockdown power. Each bullet ripped the head off another red eyed, rabid monster charging at her and her friends. Zoe picked up the spares, taking down the few Reavers who had firearms with well placed shots from her mare's leg.

As the wave advanced, River began to realize she wasn't able place her targets quickly enough. The recoil from the rifle, while not enough to be painful, was increasing the time it took to aim. Rather than waste bullets, River dropped the rifle and went in, face first.

Her short swords swung out, complimenting her steel reinforced boots in devastating her opponents. She wove her way in and out of her targets, cutting, kicking, and dodging various blows. Where she couldn't easily take down one opponent, she simply moved on to another target, allowing Zoe to assist.

Finally, standing in a pile of bodies, most of which were still twitching or bleeding profusely, she shook the blood off her butterfly swords and placed them back in their sheathe.

Simon stared, frozen in place. He'd seen his sister dance as a child, and had been saved by her abilities on Miranda, but he'd never gotten the chance to watch his baby sister cut loose like that. It was beautiful and scary at the same time, like old educational videos of cheetahs running down their prey.

River caught Simon's eye as she retrieved her rifle. She didn't like the way Simon was looking at her. She could feel his awe mixed with fear. At least Zoe was accepting. She took River's abilities with a cool, professional attitude, not unlike how she took everything else the Verse threw at her. In her mind, if River could do these things, River could do these things and that's all there was to it.

"Let's keep moving," River said. "It's going to start raining heavily in four seconds."

The three kept walking at a fast pace as the rains started to pour.

.

Kaylee was scared. She'd gotten separated from the others when a particularly large crowd of Reavers had swarmed them. Mal's parting words had been "Get to Serenity!" before he also had to turn and run. While Mal, Jayne, and Victor had the option of luring their mindless pursuers into better positions, Kaylee was unarmed. Luckily (or perhaps it was a deliberate choice) the three men had made as much noise as possible, before the four split up, causing the majority of the Reavers to follow them. Kaylee had managed to lose her pursuers in the twists and turns of smaller streets, but now she was faced with a new problem. She was lost.

Kaylee opened the door to the nearest large building. Locking it behind her, she turned and was greeted with the sight of a machine shop of some kind. Smiling, in spite of the situation, she took in the room. A large speeder, obviously in need of repair, sat in the middle of the room. On the shelves lining the walls were small engines, weed eaters, and generators. Walking around the speeder, Kaylee spotted a grav generator and a macro battery as well. The battery was a two foot by two foot cube, and probably powered the speeder.

"Shiny," Kaylee said, smiling. Then she remembered why she was here. She began to search for anything that could be used as a weapon.

.

Victor sat down on the steps of what appeared to be an apartment building. The steps were recessed into the building, offering some protection from the pouring rain. His sword was back at his hip and he held a black, polymer semiauto pistol he'd drawn from somewhere in his coat. The blade to his sword had gone dull after a new wave of Reavers had found him. He'd stopped counting how many he'd killed around fifty. He was tired and out of breath. He also realized why people hated Reavers so much. He'd chopped the arms off the first few only to have them keep attacking with their teeth. One of the Reavers had gotten a lucky stab to his left shoulder with a pointy stick, right where the muscle met the neck with what, at the time, appeared to be a broken off broom handle. Angry at his own lack of attention, Victor went into one of his blind rages and chopped the whole lot of them up into pieces, taking a chunk out wherever he could.

Now, his blade was dull, he was exhausted, and his shoulder was hurt and bleeding. The small hole in the bullet resistant nanowire sewn into his coat was going to take time to fix. Several minutes at least. Maybe that wasn't too long, but that was still minutes longer than it would have taken had he not taken a stick to the shoulder.

He knew the momentary lapse in attackers wasn't going to last, and he really wasn't looking forward to the next round. He pulled his vial of powdered coca extract out of his pocket and took a dose.

"Well, Snow," he said, replacing the vial. "I think I'll let you take the next ones, huh?"

Snow sat, panting. While large, he was still just a puppy and running alongside Victor was the most exercise he'd gotten at the same time, ever.

"I mean, what good are you anyway?" he asked, rubbing the puppy's ears. The little guy had actually been quite helpful. His growling and barking at the Reavers caused them to bend over to grab him, giving Victor the ability to bring his sword into play with no resistance. Victor made a mental note to start training the dog properly the next chance he got.

Snow yawned.

"None of that," Victor said, sternly. He stood. His stomach was full of Mexican food and tequila, aggravated further by the cigar he'd smoked. The sudden burst of physical activity wasn't helping either. "Tell you what. We'll just go around the rest of them."

Snow seemed to like that idea.

.

Jayne didn't like these new Reavers. Truth be told, he didn't like any Reavers, but these new ones with the red eyes were especially troublesome. They were like ants. Most Reavers are like rabid dogs, but these new ones were like ants. Two or three of them would go out ahead of the group, then the rest would come crashing down. He didn't like the idea of Reavers planning things. More important, Reavers don't talk, so how were they telling each other where Jayne was?

Jayne spotted the mechanic shop, having narrowly avoided a batch of Reavers. He didn't have enough ammo on him to stop and deal with them all. He wasn't sure what had happened to Kaylee, but a garage seemed as likely a spot as any for her to be. The light was on in the place. At the very least, Jayne could warn whoever was in there what was going on outside. Maybe there'd be a pretty girl who'd want to spend some alone time with her handsome rescuer.

_Never mind,_ Jayne thought, seeing a lone Reaver go into the garage. He sprinted the rest of the way to the door and burst in just in time to see Kaylee holding the Reaver at bay, swinging a large wrench. Her "attacks" probably would have been more effective had her eyes been open.

Jayne drew and fired in one smooth motion, sending Reaver brains flying. Kaylee either didn't hear, or didn't know what she'd heard because she kept swinging her wrench at the empty air.

"Quitcher messin around," Jayne growled at Kaylee.

"Jayne?" she asked, opening her eyes. She looked down at the Reaver.

"You got 'em," Jayne said. "Now come on."

.

Mal had ordered his crew to get back on Serenity. He had other plans, however. He ran his way through the town, gathering up survivors as best he could, organizing a response to the swarms of Reavers. He'd ran into some donsmen along the way and was now leading about twenty armed men throught the streets, eliminating Reavers whenever they were dumb enough to rush his current "army".

Mal talked with the donsmen and quickly established a basic plan. At every house that had people in it, one of the groups followers would knock on the door. After alerting whoever was home, the residents would grab their guns. If there were small children at home, the orders were to stay home and make as little noise as possible. If not, the residents would join the posse and help put down Reavers and put out fires.

Mal kept his input to a minimum and let the donsmen give all the orders. People don't like being told what to do in their own homes, especially from outsiders. Even so, he intended to stick around until the Reavers were dealt with. Maybe he'd even be able to find out what the hell these new ones were and where they came from.

.

The Reaver Queen was most displeased. She could see through her Reavers' eyes the town was yet to be fully set aflame. Also, she'd been met with armed resistance from a large number of men seemingly led by the Browncoat.

Standing atop one of the taller buildings, she could see her fires twinkling out like stars in the distance. She sighed deeply and tisked to herself. This just wouldn't do at all. She'd severely underestimated her opponents. All her brains and education just didn't hold up in the face of experience. The Reaver Queen was not too proud to admit that to herself. Her enemy had used the lay out of the town itself to their advantage and recruited help in the face of overwhelming odds. That was fine. It made her inevitable victory all the more exciting.

She had one last thing to take care of before she turned the rest of her pets loose. One of her siblings was looking for her.

.

River, Zoe, and Simon worked their way through the city to Mal's location, barrels out and ready. Zoe was a little uneasy moving through hostile territory with the only intel coming from a reader's subconscious mind, but River had never led them wrong before. After the last wave of Reavers, they'd yet to encounter any more.

River stopped suddenly in the middle of the road. "This isn't going to work," she said.

Simon spoke up. "We're doing fine so far."

"The Captain has organized a response team," River said, eyes wide and far away. "The Queen is mad she lost her pawns."

"We don't know what your talking about River," Zoe said patiently. River's spaced out way of speaking could be troublesome, but Zoe knew it was best to try and keep up.

"She's talking about me," a voice said from behind them.

Zoe and Simon spun and raised their weapons. They were facing about a dozen Reavers and a tall, Chinese woman in black. These Reavers were the "smart" ones. Each had a firearm of some kind. River took her own time turning to face her enemy. She could see everything, even without her eyes.

"Hello, Stacy," River said, keeping her own rifle pointed at the ground. "It's been a long time."

"You know this person?" Simon asked.

The woman in black placed a hand over her heart in a fake gesture of pain. "River, I'm _hurt_. You never mentioned me to your friends?"

"You look like you've been keeping busy," River said, trying to buy time. She didn't want to fight one of her old classmates. She wasn't sure she could win.

"Oh, I have," the woman said. She spread her arms in a wide and expansive gesture. "I got myself a new job and a new title. I spend my days enforcing the will of our great leaders."

"_Your_ leaders," River corrected. _Just a little longer._

The woman scoffed. "Oh please River. Just because you ran away from home doesn't make you any less a daughter of the Alliance than me."

"So you expect us to believe the government signed off on you burning a productive, friendly community to the ground?"

The Reaver Queen, the young woman River had called Stacy, smiled impishly. She looked, momentarily, like a girl who'd been caught pulling a prank. In the pouring rain, with Reavers flanking her on either side, the sight was... unpleasant to say the least. "Oh, you're just too smart for me, girlfriend!" she said, laughing. Even her laugh sounded wrong, somehow. "I was going to bring them the body of Malcolm Reynolds. You know... be proactive, move up in the world."

_Any time now. _"And the fires and civilian casualties?" River asked, hoping the effort of keeping control of her Reavers kept the other woman from digging into her mind.

The Reaver Queen shrugged and sighed. "Oh... you know what they say. All work and no play..."

The conversation was mercifully ended with a barrage of pistol shots from the Reavers' nine o'clock position. Three Reavers went down before the whole party had even registered what was happening. Zoe and Simon opened fire as well, prioritizing the armed Reavers as targets. River didn't. She fired at the woman.

The Reaver Queen loosed her control of her minions to focus on River. She could feel where River was shooting as she made haste toward the nearest building. That helped her avoid the worst of the attack, but River kept firing, putting three bullets into her target. The Reaver queen was no ordinary target and kept going, diving through the force field window and escaping.

The Reavers down, Zoe made to run after the Queen, but River called on her to stop.

"She's trying to lure us into a trap," River said. "I injured her, so she won't come back anytime soon. We should just be grateful for now."

Zoe didn't like the idea of letting a wounded enemy escape, but she liked the idea of walking into a trap even less. She set about collecting the Reavers' handguns and stuffing them into River's backpack.

Victor and Snow walked out of the ambush position. Snow looked like he'd just climbed out of a pool. Victor was grinning his stupid grin. Simon momentarily wished he had a fireman's coat. The one Victor was wearing looked waterproof.

"And what took you so long?" River demanded, frowning in disappointment.

"Don't start with me, woman," Victor said, his grin not even fading. "You have no idea the traffic I had to get through to get here." He turned to take in Zoe and Simon. "You guys look like you're having a rough night."

"I've had better," Zoe confirmed.

"Where's Kaylee?" Simon asked.

Victor considered for a second. He looked up one side of the street. Then, he looked down another side of the street. Finally, he spun in a slow circle. He finished by shrugging and said, "I dunno."

Simon dropped his SMG, letting it hang from his shoulder by the strap. He grabbed Victor by the coat and got face-to-face with him snarling, "You think this is a joke? She could be dead right now!"

Victor rolled his eyes like a petulant teenager. "Everything is joke, bro. That's what makes things serious."

Simon roared and swung a fist at Victor's face as hard as he could. Victor leaned his head into the punch, taking the blow to his forehead. Foreheads tend to be much thicker than knuckles and Simon recoiled, clutching his hand to his chest.

"This isn't helping!" River snapped.

Victor was snickering to himself. He was impressed. Simon knew who he was dealing with but still lost his cool and attacked. It seemed even the nicest guys tend to get a little crazy when their women's lives were on the line. _I like this guy,_ Victor thought.

Zoe chimed in, "Simon, God knows I understand how you feel, but your sister's right. It's time to soldier up."

"The Captain's orders were to return to the ship," Victor said.

"River," Zoe said. "Can you lead us to the Captain?"

"Easily," River said.

"You've got new orders now," Zoe said. "We're going to find the Captain."

Victor looked in the direction of the ship he couldn't see from the street he was on. Fires, screams, and death did not wait in that direction. A lukewarm shower and his bed did. Also he had an open cut in an awkward place, meaning the man he just had a mild disagreement with would have to clean the wound and stitch him up.

Victor turned back to Zoe. "Why not? You're the hottest date I've had in a long time."

Zoe smirked. "Sorry, but I only like funny, good looking men."

"Ouch," Victor said, clutching his chest. "You hit harder than the Doc."


	13. EP 13 Intentar (part 1)

"We're all just folks now, trying to get by."- often repeated expression by Malcolm Reynolds.

"Everything that makes people different makes us all the same."- Victor Prince (age 16) to a reporter; when asked why he bore no ill will to his mother's surviving murderer.

.

Parliament was in a closed session in New Cardiff, Londinium. All of the highest members of the Core worlds were sitting in a large, square room with white walls. There were tables, functional if not visually impressive, all over the room, arranged so each member could more or less see every other. There was a smell of exhaustion in the air. It smelled faintly like a room that had been scrubbed perfectly clean and then crammed with too many people and stale coffee. One would think such an important meeting would take place somewhere besides a large office, but practicality tends to win out when matters of surveillance, secrecy, and old fashioned convenience were at stake.

The only person present who wasn't wearing the Parliamentary Seal around his neck was a black man, sitting in a corner, being as innocuous as possible. Making his presence small wasn't hard for this man. Of a perfectly medium height, build, and age, the man was dressed in a sturdy, old Italian style suit. The only "fashion" the man was displaying was his eyeglasses. Vision problems were almost completely unheard of in the Verse thanks to modern medicine. Only the elderly ever needed vision correction. Not particularly fashionable, the man looked like he would be right at home as the manager of a department store. In a way, that was partly what he was.

Of course, being unobtrusive wasn't working very well for the man, giving as how he was currently the center of attention.

"What's _he_ doing here?" a heavyset Chinese man demanded, pointing at the man without a Seal. Saffron would have recognized the speaker, Blake QuanLi, as her new employer. "This session was supposed to be closed to the public. Or was there a change I wasn't informed about?"

The black man spoke, with a crisp, clear voice, devoid of any discernable accents that might give away information about where he came from (the significance of which was lost to him). Among the wealthy, family prestige was considered as important as life or freedom. As a businessman for a major corporation (or more accurately _the_ major corporation), the man considered the bottom line to be more important than petty concerns of social standing. "Gentlemen," he said pleasantly. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Geoff Richmond and I represent the Blue Sun corporation-"

"We know who you are," QuanLi spat. Interrupting him had been a deliberate ploy to try and get a rise out of him. "We know who you represent. Maybe you can explain to us why a liason from a _private_ company is in attendance to a closed session?"

Richmond cleared his throat, looking completely unruffled. "I'll cut right to the chase then," he said, straightening his already perfect tie. "These terrorist attacks are starting to hurt our business. I came here today in the hopes I would be able to tell my superiors what the Union of the Allied Planets plans to do to make them stop."

"You dare bring ultimatums?!" another representative demanded in a less than pleasant voice. Were he not a dignified Parliamentary Representative of the Union of Allied Planets, one would say he was screaming. "You must be a moon brained-"

Richmond raised his hands, palms outward, in a passive gesture. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you understand the seriousness of our situation. I didn't want to imply otherwise," he looked around the room to make sure he had everyone's attention. "But the nature of these attacks is troubling. Blue Sun is a trusted brand in pretty much every part of every consumer's daily life. As such, we seem to have garnered more than our fair share of attention from the terrorist groups. Not to mention, the bizarre correlation between these cells..."

A blond, female representative spoke up with a post-British accent. "I'm not sure what correlation your talking about," she said. "The terrorist groups that we manage to catch tend to be middle aged men, college students, street toughs, mothers..." she checked her tablet as she spoke, to make sure any new information hadn't been added recently. "The only 'correlation' I can find is that the terrorists are usually male, and even that is only by a small margin. Is that what you're referring to?"

"Not at all," Richmond said. "The correlation I was referring to was the seeming _lack_ of any similarities between the groups. It seems burning down buildings is the next big trend. And since it's _my _company's buildings... And since Allied Governments Banking System has chosen to refuse to cover acts of terrorism in our insurance-"

"So that's what this is about? Money?!" QuanLi demanded. It was always money with the whites and the blacks. QuanLi noticed Richmond didn't mention all the government buildings that had been hit. Granted, there weren't as many, but that was due to their difficulty as targets. "We're facing a direct threat to peace and stability for billions of people, and you're worried about your profit margins?"

"Business is where you find it. My company will have no problem keeping its profit margins in tact, I assure you. I'm simply wondering what the Union plans to do to make this stop. Have you given any consideration to capturing Malcolm Reynolds? He seems to be at the heart of the matter," Richmond's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"We're working on it," QuanLi said, giving nothing away. He'd already dispatched Miss Reynolds and was waiting to hear back from a bounty hunter. "Police raids into blackout zones have increased by three hundred percent in the past month alone-"

Richmond grimaced. He was starting to get a headache, listening to QuanLi drone on about increased "action" and proposals for newer laws which would (hopefully) force people to feel safer. If they didn't notice increased security checks and the like as useless gestures when the threat was coming from ordinary people.

Richmond thought to himself, _Typical. The government uses fear as an excuse to flex it's collective muscles, but when it comes to actually getting results..._

.

New Corona

.

River's group finally caught up to Jayne and Kaylee on one random street or another. Simon immediately rushed to Kaylee and threw his arms around her. "Are you alright?"

"She's fine," Jayne grunted. "I didn't let nothin happen to her." He looked Simon over. "You look ridiculous." Simon was wearing plastic track pants and a blue hoodie which clashed with his submachine gun and giant med bag.

"Where's the Captain?" Zoe asked.

"The hell should I know?" Jayne replied. His eyes narrowed at River. "Did you go through my stuff?"

River looked down at herself. "Maybe," she said, smirking. She handed the rifle over to Jayne. It was probably better off in his hands anyway. Passing him the magazines on her belt, she kept the pistol and butterfly swords. "Should we go get the Captain before he gets himself into trouble?"

"Let's," Zoe agreed.

"I need a minute," Victor announced, standing up straight, his hands on his hips. Everyone turned to face him

"You don't look so good," Simon told him, noticing how pale he seemed, even in the rain.

Victor replied by projectile vomiting into the mud. His stomach had finally lost its battle with dinner and the tequila that he and Jayne had drank the majority of. He'd also never smoked a whole cigar in one sitting before. The nose powder couldn't have helped, either. Standing up straight again and looking as though nothing had happened, he said. "Okay, I'm good."

Jayne spoke. "Waste of perfectly good liquor," he said shaking his head. "What'd you even eat and drink for if you can't hold it down?"

Victor opened his mouth to say something witty and scathing. Instead, he doubled over and threw up the rest of his stomachs contents. This time, it hurt. "Aagh," he moaned, standing back up. "Tequila..."

"Are you _quite_ finished?" River demanded.

"Never," Victor groaned. Snow leaned against his leg to try and make him feel better. "Thanks, pup."

While the crew was distracted, a lone figure ambled up the street between the adobe buildings. From a distance the figure appeared to be a woman, but was swaying with a drunken walk.

"Friend of yours?" Victor asked, drawing everyone's attention back to the woman, who'd stopped about twenty feet away.

"Watch out," was all River was able to say before the woman attacked.

The woman (presumably a fresh Reaver) was shrieking in a high, ear splitting screech, instead of the standard growl of her male counterparts. She was fast. Victor was standing closest to her and she dove at him. Forgetting about the shape of his sword blade, Victor drew and struck.

He struck empty air.

"Huh?" he grunted, blankly. He was so stunned, he didn't notice the banshee going after his friends. He's chopped the head off a rattlesnake once, mid-strike. Nothing could move that fast.

Jayne opened fire with his rifle. He couldn't even bring the sights to bear on his target, who was smart as well. The banshee kept striking with clawed fingers at Zoe, Simon, and Kaylee, keeping River from getting close and keeping Jayne from firing even when he could hold a bead. Simon and Zoe both took shots at the thing as well, with no more luck than Jayne or Victor. Snowball the Ferocious did his part by barking nonstop at the thing. At least Snow was smart enough to stay out of the way. Several bullets from Jayne, Zoe, and Simon found their mark, mostly by luck, but the banshee kept attacking. She seemed to have a preference for clawing at faces.

River whistled in a loud, high pitch, drawing the banshee's attention. The banshee turned, her once human face twisted into a freakish snarl, all teeth and red eyes.

Now River went on the attack, swinging out with her blades, keeping the banshee at bay. Still, she wasn't fast enough. She stabbed out, the banshee skipped to the side. She swung wide, the banshee ducked. As River kept trying to land a blow, both her and the banshee kept moving faster and faster until their motions were practically a blur. River started to get desperate. She'd had a long day, but this thing was showing no signs of slowing down.

River gave a start as Victor's sword blade appeared through the belly of the banshee. Victor had waited until the thing's attention was on River. The banshee looked down with a look of rage and disbelief. Turning, she launched herself at Victor, intent on ripping his flesh from his bones. Victor waited until her body weight was committed to the attack and drew his blunderbuss. While nowhere near as fast as Mal, he was plenty quick enough to hit his target, which was moving towards him in a straight line. Victor pulled both triggers as soon as the weapon was clear of the holster. He kept the angle as high as possible to keep from hitting River as well. A quarter-pound of buckshot ripped out most of the banshees upper chest causing blood, flesh, and bone to mix with the rain pouring down on River.

Victor almost lost bladder control when the banshee smiled wickedly at him. The smile promised pain. Thankfully, the banshee caught on to the fact that she was dead now and collapsed in a bloody heap.

Victor broke the top of his sawn off shotgun with shaking hands. Everyone was staring at the banshee in blank, dumbfounded silence. Taking the spent shells out and placing them in the cargo pocket on his black fatigue pants, he placed two more shells from his belt into the breech. He closed the shotgun, and reholstered. He'd been scared before, but not like this. In Victor's experience, a double shot of 8 gauges loaded with buckshot killed everything. Dead. Now he knew why people were so scared of Reavers. The male versions were slower and more brutal, but that thing...

Victor drew the sword back out of the fresh carcass and didn't bother trying to get it in the scabbard yet. His hands were shaking in earnest now. Had anyone been able to take their eyes off of the banshee's body, they would have seen it clearly.

"I had her," River said finally, trying to lighten the mood.

Victor's joking nature failed him. He looked at River wide eyed and asked, "What if there had been two or three of those things?"

"All this standin around ain't doin nobody any favors," Jayne said finally. "We should get moving."

Five tan skinned men in green fatigues and wide brimmed hats carrying matching AR style rifles came marching around the same corner the banshee had approached by. The only non-uniform thing about them was their blades. Each one of the men had either a kukri or a machete on their back, belt, or leg. "Excuse me," one of them called out.

"Yeah, we got her," Victor said, still a little dazed. _Stupid thing wouldn't even die right, making me damn near piss myself._ "Crazy ass, banshee she-River thing..." he muttered.

"Are you the crew of Serenity?" the leader asked. He spoke with a heavy latin accent.

"What's this about?" Zoe asked.

"I need you to come with me," the leader said. It was clear he wasn't asking.

"What now?" Simon asked, exasperated. Over the past few years, he'd grown tired of constantly being concerned about being arrested or kidnapped.

The men took flanking positions around Serenity's crew the leader took a small radio off of his belt and said some things in Spanish. "Now we wait for the truck," he said.

"What's going on?" Zoe asked politely.

"The Don Agricola wishes to speak with you," the leader said. He made no threatening gestures or attempts to disarm the crew. In fact, he had the demeanor of an abnormally well armed driver. _Nothing to see here, just picking some people up._

"I didn't do it," Victor said immediately. He looked around. "It was all _his_ idea," he said in mock desperation, pointing at Snow. Snow cocked his head sideways at Victor's outstretched finger.

Something about the quick response and conviction Victor was speaking with caused everyone to instantly look at Snow, out of reflex. Victor congratulated himself on being able to keep a straight face.

"There's nothing to be concerned about," the (soldier?) donsman said, smiling. "The Don just likes to get his information straight from la boca del caballo, so to speak."

Another banshee shrieked from a nearby rooftop, cutting the conversation short. It opened fire with a shotgun onto the crowd below. Serenty's crew dove for cover behind the corner of the closest building while the donsmen opened fire with their ARs. The banshee took out one of the donsmen before running out of shells. This banshee was smart enough to work a shotgun, but not smart enough to find ammo. Once the shotgun ran dry, she hurled the weapon into the street and ducked out of sight, shrieking again. This time, the shriek was taunting, a challenge.

"I've got this biao zi," River snarled. She was getting sick of these Reavers trying to kill her and her friends. She took off down the road and around the building the banshee was on, trying to cut off any chance of escape.

"Gitcher ass back here, girl!" Jayne shouted after her. The cavalry had already arrived. She was just risking herself for no reason.

"Watch, Snow, I'll get her!" Victor said, remembering what the Captain had said about not going anywhere alone. Besides, the last banshee had been way too hard to kill. River was going to need back up and he was more accustomed to working alone than Jayne.

Not waiting for anyone to talk him out of it, he took off after River.

.

_Where are you, you chou whore bitch?_ River thought. The banshee was leading her on a merry chase down the back alleys of the town. The lack of streetlights and mud everywhere made just running a hazard, but River wasn't concerned. She knew where she was going and moved like she'd run this trail a hundred times before. She considered the possibility the banshee was leading her into an ambush, but she could also sense she was closing in fast. The last banshee had made her look like a fool and she wanted some pay back.

"There you are," she panted, sliding to a stop in the mud.

The banshee had run herself into a dead end alley. The neighboring buildings were higher than average and she/it was frantically jumping up, trying to grab onto a drain or roof tile to maker her escape. She looked like a lizard trying to scramble up the inside of a plastic bucket. Realizing escape wasn't an option, she turned to face her hunter. River was standing perfectly still, rain dripping off of her like a statue. The banshee attacked, two inhumanly large bounds carrying her the twenty feet to River. River snapped into motion, drawing her pistol and firing at her mid air target.

She got off three rounds, all of which hit the banshee in the torso, before the thing slapped the pistol away, scratching shallow cuts across the back of her hand in the process. River drew her butterfly swords instantly and went on the attack. The banshee ducked away from the first swing and clawed River across the face, causing her to scream a normal human scream of pain and anger. River swung again, deliberately advertising her move. When the banshee dodged it found itself on the receiving end of a powerful switch kick. The banshee went down and River didn't hesitate, jumping through the air in the shortest route to bringing her boot down on the thing's throat.

The banshee's inhuman speed and strength served it well. It slapped River's boot out of the air causing her to fall onto her side, which she smoothly turned into a roll as the banshee lurched to its feet. Both fighters took a split second to breath, staring each other down, both covered in mud. The banshee's red eyes were filled with rage. River looked on calmly, determined. She wasn't letting this one go.

Victor finally caught up to River, panting worse than Snow had been. He drew his shotgun, cocking back both hammers with his left hand, and aimed. He was just about to fire when River moved to stab the banshee.

"River, get clear!" Victor shouted, annoyed. What the hell was she doing? Trying to save him the shotshell? "I've got this thing!"

River either didn't hear or wasn't in the move to listen. She and the banshee danced around each other, neither able to score a real blow. Finally, River let out a scream of frustration, swallowed up by the banshee's rival shriek, and dove at the thing, shoving both of the wide blades into either of the banshee's lungs and toppling it over with the momentum of her jump. Sitting on top of the thing, she drew both blades out as the banshee continued trying to scream. In a fluid motion, River flipped both blades around so the points were facing down. Screaming again, this time a bloodthirsty scream of triumph, she drove both blades directly into the things chest.

Finally, the banshee stopped screaming.

"Good job," Victor said, replacing his coach gun and walking over. "You could have just let me shoot her."

River came back to her senses and tried to pull her swords back out of the banshee. They wouldn't budge. They must have been lodged in bone.

"Why didn't I let you?" she asked herself out loud. That would have been the smart thing for her to do.

"You wanted the kill for yourself," Victor said, nonchalantly. He walked around to the banshee's head as River climbed off of it. Placing one massive boot on each of the things biceps, he bent over and wrenched the butterfly swords out, pulling gory chunks with them.

"I don't like killing," River said, frowning. "I'm not like you."

"Whatever," Victor said, shaking the blades clean. He handed them back to River, hilts first.

Victor's indifference irritated River, but she didn't know why. She was about to say something scathing and put the jerk in his place when she noticed his hand. Sheathing her swords she asked, "Are you bleeding?"

Victor looked down. There was, in fact, blood leaking out of his right sleeve. "Well...poop." He popped the chest buttons on his fireman's coat and slid his right arm out of it. "I think I'm fucked up." No wonder he'd been feeling so sick.

River looked close. Victor had a hole in the meaty part where his shoulder met his neck. It was bleeding freely, if not profusely. "You seem to have suffered a puncture wound to your right trapezius," she said in a flat, sterile voice. She sounded like Simon.

"Yeah, well, dude was aiming for my throat, so I call it a win," Victor said. He took his coat off and handed it to River. "Can you hold that while we find someplace dry for a second?" He clutched his left hand over the wound to stop the bleeding. It was always something.

The two made their way to a better location (the restaurant Mal, Jayne, Kaylee, and Victor had eaten dinner at) and took a seat at a table that had an umbrella sticking up in the middle. There was no one around, which wasn't surprising given the storm and subsequent Reaver outbreak in the town.

River placed Victor's coat on the table and removed his duct tape and a roll of white, cotton gauze in a vacuum sealed pack. "Sit," she ordered Victor.

Victor sat down. Because he was tired and wanted to, not because he was inclined to follow orders from River. Even if she was pretty. "You could say please," he said. He realized something. "We've got to stop meeting like this. Tongues will wag. Oh, the scandal! "

"You're not funny," River said, taking a long, tanto out of Victor's coat. Without a further word, she cut Victor's black T-shirt from the neck to the outside of the right sleeve.

"You just couldn't wait to get my clothes off, again, could you?" Victor asked, winking. He jumped in sudden pain as River squeezed her thumb down on his wound.

"Oh, I'm sorry," River said insincerely. "Did I hurt you?" she asked, placing just a little too much emphasis on the last three words.

"Nope," Victor wheezed in a strained voice, blinking tears from his eyes. "I'm good."

"Now sit still," River said, sternly. She set to work dressing his wound.

"You really don't like me, do you?" Victor asked, looking up at River's face to gauge her reaction.

"Why should I?" River asked, focused on her work.

"I like you," Victor said. He felt River's hands pause for a second, but her face was a statue.

River felt her face heating up and was grateful it was dark. She realized she could still feel the pervasive gnawing in then pit of Victor's stomach. It slowly dawned on her, that feeling was probably sexual desire. "Well stop it," River snapped.

"Yes ma'am," Victor said as River finished up. "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

"What?" River asked, startled. "That's an inappropriate question."

"Yes ma'am," Victor said, again, making River want to slap him.

"Besides, you wouldn't tell me about your wife," River said.

"Good point," Victor said. River was grateful that Victor shut himself down on the inside. It was easier to be around him when he wasn't projecting his thoughts and feelings out so strongly. He was almost as good at it as Inara. "You were-"

_beautiful_

"-impressive, back there," Victor said, standing up and replacing his coat. "How come you didn't freak out, like before?"

"My hallucinations are usually triggered by something," River said. She could feel Victor's mind turning to thoughts of trying to kiss her, despite the unrelated conversation. She could also tell Victor was aware of her looking at his thoughts and didn't care. He was standing too close to her, as well. "Last time, it was because the speeder we were in was a similar model to one my 'teacher' used to drive me around in."

"That was genius, you know," Victor said. "Diving at the banshee, face first? Brilliant and stupid at the same time. I like it."  
Any attraction River may have felt toward Victor was suddenly doused in cold water. "We should go," River said.

Victor sat back down. "I hate to break it to you, but I need to rest a little. Big muscles are impressive, but I'm done. Like a steak, done. Not all of us are uber baddass super spy power babes."

"You say it like it's a good thing," River said bitterly, sitting down. She could still sense where Kaylee and the others were.

"Isn't it?" Victor asked.

"No!" River snapped. "I don't like killing!"

"Yeah, you said that before," Victor said resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "That's not what I saw, though."

In response, River picked her leg up and kicked the edge of the table, causing the whole thing to tilt. Victor caught it and let it back down.

"Temper much?" Victor asked frowning. River could sense he was actually confused about why she was angry. Which made her more angry. "Listen, I'm trying to pay you a compliment."

"Well, you suck at it!"

"Why are you so upset about me acknowledging that you're the best at something?" Victor asked.

"Because, it's not normal," River said. "The only reason I can do these things is because of what those zazhongs at the Academy did to me."

Victor finally lost out to his impulse and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right."

River raised her leg to kick the table again and Victor countered by stretching his longer leg out and pressing the bottom of his boot to the bottom of hers. "Will you chill and hear me out for a second?"

River said, nothing but put her foot back on the ground.

Victor took a deep breath and chose his words. "You're brother's like a superhero, right?"

River blinked, stunned. Victor was speaking his thoughts out loud and she'd never have expected him to say that. "What?" River asked. She felt a flash of irritation at herself for how dumb she probably sounded.

"Yeah," Victor continued. "I was talking to Kaylee. Apparently, he waltzed into a highly secret government facility with nothing but a costume and an attitude and just... took you out of there."

_That wasn't quite right,_ River thought as Victor continued.

"He once took a flying leap off of a fifteen foot high catwalk onto a federal agent who was trying to retrieve you. He held said agent at gunpoint so Captain Reynolds could shoot him. He refused to leave your side when you were going to be burned at the stake. He orchestrated a massive heist of an Alliance hospital where he got you treatment, saved a dying man, and even knocked out a fed while being handcuffed. He even dove onto a badassed bounty hunter, taking a bullet in the leg trying to save you again."

When he put it like that, Simon did sound kind of awesome. River made a mental note to talk to Kaylee about her storytelling. It would seem she had a selective memory where Simon was concerned. "What's your point?"

Victor sighed. "I'm just saying you should stop attributing everything you don't like about yourself to the Academy. It's possible you came by some of your badassedness naturally."

River thought about it for a second. She remembered how good it felt to get the better of the banshee. She thought about how she'd had it completely beat, but still delivered the deathblow, so strong Victor had to retrieve her swords for her. She considered how good it had felt when the ball of rage and torment that was the banshee's mind had ceased to be, leaving her own mind in momentary peace. She didn't like those thoughts. All she'd ever wanted was to be a normal girl. All anyone had _ever_ wanted for her was for her to go back to being a normal girl.

"I just want to be normal," River said in a small voice, staring at the ground.

"You were born an infinitely talented super genius," Victor said, not able to keep all of the scoffing tone out of his voice. "Whoever said that was a possibility for you, lied to you."

"You've rested enough," River said, standing. "Let's go."

"Yes ma'am."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

So... I realize the scene with Parliament probably should have been the opening scene to the whole show. I'm going to pretend I put it here instead for intelligent, artistic reasons and not because I didn't think of it at the time.


End file.
